


he is inside his body and i am inside my body (and it matters less and less)

by stockholm_syndrom



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Witcher!Jaskier, a bit of toxic witchculinity, but then we start over, but we work through it, courting, geralt tries, he is doing his best, it starts out as established relationship, scent as a seduction technique, time travel/alternate universe elements, witchers learning to be soft together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stockholm_syndrom/pseuds/stockholm_syndrom
Summary: Geralt could tell the other witcher knew he was there, had most likely known all along, and Geralt knew he should introduce himself at a distance. That would be the respectful way to approach a fellow witcher just finished with a kill. But he couldn’t get his throat to work, and he couldn’t suppress the part of him that just had to get closer. Somehow he knew. He knew.The witcher turned. Jaskier turned.Geralt couldn’t help but flinch.“Greetings, brother.”The witcher,Jaskier, the witcher, called out as Geralt approached, cocking his head to the side as curious yellow eyes, still on high alert from the battle, were tracking Geralt’s every move.-Or, when Jaskier and Geralt meddle in powerful magic, Jaskier’s life wears off in an unexpected direction, and Geralt is faced with a Jaskier who grew up to become a witcher, and the only one who still remembers Jaskier the Bard.Now with art!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 131
Kudos: 745
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The beta for this chapter was the wonderful [TheCoffeeBadger](https://iamthecoffeebadger.tumblr.com/) Thank you so much for your help! 
> 
> The title is from a Richard Siken poem, and the music at the start of this chapter is Be by Hozier.

_Love, won't you be_

_Love, won't you be_

_Be as you’ve always been?_

They had done it. Geralt looked over at Jaskier who was starting to calm down from his giddy and somewhat hysterical giggling.

“Can you believe we managed to trick the fairies into blowing themselves up?” Jaskier got out between the giggles and hiccups.

Geralt allowed himself a satisfied “Hmmm,” before turning to Jaskier and saying “You will give yourself a stomach ache if you don’t calm down.”

“Yeah well, I’ll take sore tummy over whatever gruesome death they had in store for us! Won’t hurt you to let loose a bit you know, and this will make an epic song, Geralt, the two of us escaping death with naught but wits and brains, well mostly my brain if I do say so myself. I can already feel the inspiration coming!”

Geralt rolled his eyes, though he wasn’t able to stop the corner of his mouth from turning up. The bard had a right to be proud, they had just taken on a group of powerful fae that had decided to move into a town and take over as rulers, turning the population into their servants and playthings, eating all their food. Normally witchers stayed far away from the fae, but this group had overstepped. And caused a level of harm impossible for Geralt to ignore when the families found them and pleaded for aid.

He started gathering up their gear and listening with half an ear while Jaskier entertained an imaginary audience of admirers.

“… the situation was getting hairy, alas it's tricky to fight a fairy! But the Witcher had up his sleeve, a Bard of mighty estee-“ He was untying Roach when Jaskier suddenly went quiet mid-song, and when Geralt snapped his head in Jaskier’s direction he was gone.

Instead there was a fae standing in the spot Jaskier had just occupied.

“Ah, some quiet at last.” The fae murmured, still dressed in scorched clothing, clearly a survivor from the explosion. “There is no use drawing your sword now, the damage has already been done. Both yours and mine.”

“Where is Jaskier?” Geralt growled, sword in hand and facing the fairy.

“I wouldn’t know.” The fairy was smirking now “I found his thread in the tapestry, and I weaved it into a different pattern, where that took him, I cannot tell you.”

“Speak plainly, where is he?” Geralt growled.

“Witcher, it is no concern of mine where your little bard is, or if he is still alive. You butchered my family, I’m the only one left, and now, witcher, so are you.” The fairy was speaking slowly, as if it was savouring the words, enjoying drawing this out.

Its inhumanly large eyes shone with madness and glee when it said “I looked into your mind, and I looked at the threads that shaped your life and I saw what the bard was to you, why you cared so about him, what he did for you.” The fae paused for dramatic effect and it was all Geralt could do not to scream. ”So I took it all away.”

“What. Did. You. Do.” Geralt demanded, panic was creeping in and speaking was becoming difficult, as was stopping himself from attacking the creature when he knew he couldn’t, not until he knew what fate had befallen Jaskier.

“Something that can’t be undone, witcher. Your bard no longer exists, in fact he never existed, forgotten in everyone’s memory but yours. You will know my fate now, how it feels to be the only one to remember your family.” It was almost crooning now, satisfaction mixed with gleeful rage. “All I did was take that pampered little child and bring him to Kaer Morhen and leave him there. The rest I left up to fate. I highly doubt your bard had the strength to pass the trials, or what do you think? I think he died screaming.”

But Geralt couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, terror was gripping his heart. Less than five minutes ago he had been listening with half an ear to Jaskier composing a limerick. He was used to adapting quickly, but this time he was struggling to wrap his mind around the information he was given. “Why didn’t you just kill him? If what you are saying is true, why go to these lengths?” he finally managed to spit out.

“Because I looked into your mind and I saw everything. I saw what you hate about yourself and what you loved about him. Human, brave, sweet and kind and _joyful._ He made you _happy_. Do you think qualities like that survive in a witcher? Either the child died, or everything you loved about your friend has been burned out of him.” The fae’s face was twisted in triumph as it took in the despair its words were causing. “If the child was unlucky enough to survive you will look into your lover’s eyes and see a mutant, and he will look at you with no recognition.”

And then Geralt was alone.

\-----

For a while Geralt registered nothing but white noise, and he wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring at the place Jaskier and the fae had vanished from. He probably would have lingered in shock for longer had Roach not had enough of waiting around, and started making her way towards the road.

Geralt gave himself a mental shake, and reminded himself that he had no evidence the fae had been speaking the truth. Jaskier wasn’t here, but the fae were notoriously deceitful and he had never heard of any being capable of traveling through time. He just had to find Jaskier, and everything would be alright.

He picked up Jaskier’s lute from where it had fallen on the ground and caught up with Roach just before she made it onto the road, and together they walked towards the newly liberated town.

Except that once he got there, the town looked completely normal and not half blown up. Instead of being met by a newly freed population people ran from him in terror, shouting ‘butcher’ and ‘witcher’. If he hadn’t asked a nearby child the name of the town, he might have thought he had wandered into the wrong one.

Not only had the town not been besieged by fae, no one in the village remembered Jaskier. They were all rather weary of him, but he barely registered their fear as he re-traced his and Jaskier’s steps, and when that didn’t yield any results, checked all the other taverns in the village too, but no one had seen him. Not only that, no one he spoke to had heard of Jaskier the Bard or his songs.

What the fairy had told him was unbelievable, but Jaskier was gone. There one second, and now gone, both physically and from the memories of everyone he had spoken too so far. He wasn’t ready to believe he had lost Jaskier, but the evidence was mounting, and the only way to know for sure what had happened to Jaskier was to find him, and fast.

Geralt tried to recall everything he knew about the fae. They were known to trick human perception, plant false images and realities in their brains, they liked to make humans believe they had wings and watch them jump off roofs, or make kings think they wore clothes. Finding their entertainment in humiliation and human despair. But they shouldn’t have enough magic to alter the memories of a whole continent.

It was useless standing around guessing, Geralt told himself. Jaskier was clearly not here, and there was only one place that could provide him with answers now.

\-----

It should have taken two weeks to get from Ebbing to Kaer Morhen but Geralt made the trip in five days, arriving sweaty, hungry and exhausted, but not feeling anything other than the urgent need to find Jaskier.

He didn’t arrive with any subtlety, crashing through the gates at a run towards what was left of the library and archives. If Jaskier had been taken to Kaer Morhen, his name should be listed there somewhere.

Geralt was working his way through library at a frantic pace, throwing books on to the floor in messy piles. If the records were destroyed, if the fae had taken him before he was old enough to know his own name… but those worries were nothing against he panicked thought of _only about three boys in ten survive the trials._ If Jaskier was already dead he didn’t know what he would do.

Geralt threw the book he had in his hands at the wall. So caught up was he in his panic that he didn’t notice Vesemir standing at the doorway until he entered the room and addressed him.

“Geralt. Care to tell me why you have arrived to redecorate our library, and in such an aggressive fashion? Call me old fashioned, but I’ve always preferred the books on the bookshelves.” Vesemir’s words were teasing, but the tone was concerned.

“I’m looking for a book.”

“I might have been able to guess at that.” Vesemir replied, raising an eyebrow “Which book, might be a bit more helpful to know.”

“The record of names. I need to see who was brought here. About thirty years ago.”

“The records of boys brought here was destroyed years ago, together with the knowledge on how to apply the mutations.”

Geralt let out a despairing sound, visibly startling Vesemir.

“Geralt. Calm yourself, I’ve been at Kaer Morhen a few centuries, I can most likely help you with information.”

“I’m looking for someone who would be in their mid-thirties if.” _if he is still alive_ , Geralt thought, and had to take a deep breath before he could continue speaking. “A witcher, in their thirties, Brown hair and blue eyes. I mean, the eyes would have been blue, before the mutations. Julian, Julian, would have been his name before he came.” Geralt said in a rush “did someone bring a boy like that? Is there someone like that left, in the School of Wolf?”

“Sounds like Jaskier, I mean, most of our boys have brown hair, but he’d be the only one of that generation left. So, it’s either him, or someone lost to us now.”

“Jaskier. He is still called Jaskier?”

“Why wouldn’t he be, it’s his name is it not? Is someone looking for him?”

Geralt had closed in on Vesemir, staring him down from a close distance “Is he alive?”

“I just said he was Geralt, in good health when he left this spring. You saw him yourself.” Vesemir frowned at him. “What’s gotten into you? Is Jaskier in danger?”

“I don’t know!” Geralt shouted at a perplexed Vesemir.

Realising he had to calm himself down unless he wanted Vesemir to think he had gone insane, Geralt turned his back to his mentor and faced the windows, focusing on slowing his breathing and his heartbeat.

Vesemir stood still and silent, allowing him the time he needed to pull himself together, and when Geralt felt more in control of himself he turned to face his mentor.

“Geralt.” was all Vesemir said, but Geralt could hear the worry and the question in the tone.

“Something’s happened. I accepted a contract against a family of fae that had gone rogue. I know we don’t usually, but they had a whole town captive, using it as their playhouse, torturing people.”

“I always warned you to stay away from them fae. But you always need to play the hero.”

“I should have listened.” Geralt sighed “We took them down.”

“We?”

“Jaskier was with me. We blew up the whole keep to do it, but we managed it. But it turned out one of them survived. And it took Jaskier. It took Jaskier.”

“I must admit I’m a bit confused Geralt.” Vesemir said in calm but tense tone of voice “It sounds to me like you saw Jaskier last, so why are you here?”

“It took Jaskier and it sent him here!”

“Jaskier isn’t in Kaer Morhen Geralt.”

“No, I mean.” Geralt paused and took a deep breath to gather his thoughts well enough to explain them to Vesemir “The fae, it said that it would change Jaskier’s past, said it brought him here as a child. Left him at the doorstep. Turned him into a witcher.”

“Geralt, Jaskier has always been a witcher.”

“No, he wasn’t always a witcher, until last week he was my bard!” Geralt growled.

“That’s impossible.”

“It happened. It was real, he was my travel companion for years, a bard!”

Vesemir approached Geralt, his hands coming to his face and tilting it to the light as he examined Geralt’s pupil’s, drew in a big breath to scent him.

“I can’t sense any toxin or drugs in you. But come with me, I’d like to give you an antitoxin just in case, and check you over for magic inference.” Vesemir said in a calming tone, grabbing a hold of Geralt and steering him towards their medical room.

Vesemir makes Geralt go through a number of tests and treatments, and the only thing stopping Geralt from bolting is that Vesemir is his best source to locating Jaskier, and he is refusing to share any information on his whereabouts until he is satisfied Geralt is in a right state of mind.

When Vesemir is finally satisfied with his tests and treatments they wander to the dining area where Vesemir makes him sit down and eat.

“When was the last time you ate a full meal Geralt?”

“I need answers.” Geralt growled, not in the mood to humour Vesemir any longer.

“Very well then, ask away.”

“Jaskier is a witcher?”

“Yes, has been on the path for about… oh ten or fifteen years now.”

“How did he end up here? Who brought him?”

“We don’t ask questions Geralt, most of the boys that came here were left at our door or brought to us on the path. Whether it be too many hungry mouths, or a parent’s reputation to uphold, was of no concern to us. And so it was with him, he was left here one day, and that was that.”

“How was he when he arrived?” Geralt asked, mind trying and failing to provide him with an image of Jaskier as a witcher.

“He was like most boys, a little more curious perhaps, definitely more reckless. But you should remember him. You were never close with the children, but you would have seen him around as a child. You’ve wintered here with him a few times.”

“I remember Jaskier as a bard, a famous one, and from a noble family. We’ve travelled together almost two decades. The man could scarcely lift a sword.”

“We have had noble children here, either as a child surprise or because the family had no use for extra sons, but if Jaskier was of noble blood he never told. Wouldn’t have made him popular with the other boys. Noble kids rarely pass the trials though.”

“But Jaskier did.” Geralt said, barely able to believe it.

“Jaskier did, which was no surprise, really. He is a tough lad.”

Hearing Vesemir call Jaskier tough... Geralt had thought so too, had grown to admire his strengths, so different from Geralt’s, and so precious to him for that reason. Had they been burned out of him? Either by the training and mutation, or the brutal life on the Path? Had any part of the Jaskier Geralt loved survived?

Geralt lost the urge to ask anymore questions.

Once he got out of Vesemir which direction Jaskier had set off on after the winter, what his horse looked like and any favourite cities or brothels he might have chosen to return to they fell into silence. Tracking him would not be a quick affair, so Geralt allowed Vesemir to convince him to stay for a night, thoughts too jumbled and anxious for him to put up too much of a fight.

\-----

Geralt left the next day, Vesemir’s concerned gaze trailing his back until he was out of sight.

It took three weeks of tracking, following rumours and sightings of a brown haired witcher all the way to Velen. A godsdamned frustrating place to track someone, especially a witcher, through the marshes and wetlands. Before, Jaskier always refused to go anywhere near Velen, cajoling Geralt to follow him somewhere dryer or just turning around and leaving on his own if he refused to listen. Geralt never really blamed him, Velen could be a miserable fucking place, but there was always work for a witcher in Velen.

He arrived in a small settlement called Midscope, and finally caught a break. Witcher’s were rare nowadays, like as not, most people born today might never see one in their lifetime, so two in one small settlement caused a not small bit of panic amongst the population.

Shouts of, ‘not another one!’ ‘bring the kids inside!’ and ‘the Butcher’ reached Geralt’s ears, and he rolled his eyes at the overdramatics, but it did helpfully confirm he was on the right track. There was a witcher here, though he wouldn’t know if it was Jaskier until he located him. No one he spoke to had asked for the witcher’s name, so for all he knew he could have been tracking fucking Lambert for the past three weeks.

He went directly to the alderman who informed him that he had already hired a witcher to handle the pack of drowners that had taken to killing travellers and merchants by the trade route, and wasn’t about to pay double, so Geralt could fuck right off.

Geralt mounted Roach without any further delay, cantering towards the location of the drowner sightings. When he arrived, he saw a witcher surrounded by five drowners, and hurried Roach along.

It turned out his help wasn’t needed. The witcher used the sign of igni to set three of the drowners alight, and used the distraction to manoeuvre into a better position, decapitating two drowners in one graceful pirouette, and then making quick work of the drowners scorched by the fire, stabbing them though the heart or decapitating them.

With the fight over the witcher approached the dead drowners, taking a dagger out and with moves familiar to Geralt through decades of work, harvested any useful parts he could find, before burning the bodies with another burst of igni. The tasks completed he took a rag out and wiped down his sword before cleaning his face.

The witchers back was still turned towards him, busy cleaning up after the fight. Geralt had known the moment the witcher had started fighting that it wasn’t Eskel, Coën or Lambert, but those were the only witchers whose fighting style he was familiar with. As he stood there, Geralt felt opposite impulses warring within him, his desire to find Jaskier and see with his own eyes that he was in one piece coupled with his hope that none of this was true, that Jaskier was somewhere else, somewhere safe and sound and singing. Not standing here in the mud covered in drowner guts.

Geralt dismounted from Roach, and he could tell the other witcher knew he was there, had most likely known all along, but hadn’t bothered to pay him any mind while preoccupied with the fight. Geralt could see him tensing up, shifting back into a fighting stance, and he knew he should call out and introduce himself at a distance, give him space. That would be the respectful way to approach a fellow witcher just finished with a kill. But he couldn’t get his throat to work, and he couldn’t suppress the part of him that just had to get closer. Somehow, he knew. He knew.

The witcher turned. Jaskier turned.

“Greetings, brother.” ~~The witcher~~ , ~~Jaskier~~ , the witcher, called out as Geralt approached, cocking his head to the side curiously, his eyes, still on high alert from the battle were tracking Geralt’s every move.

Geralt couldn’t help but flinch as he took in Jaskier’s appearance. He was Jaskier, but not as Geralt had ever seen him. He was covered in muck and blood, wearing a sturdy brown armour.

Jaskier had always been of a height with Geralt, but his openness and warm body language, the soft clothes, coupled with his slim built had made him appear slighter, smaller. The Jaskier in front of him, with his shoulders drawn back, and head tilted up, clad in armour, was broad and strong. Radiated a warning, danger.

“Why the long face? Did the alderman send you out for the drowners as well? Distrustful bastards.” ~~The witcher~~ , no _Jaskier_ asked. “I won’t share the reward, you were absolutely no help, obviously, but I’ll buy you a drink to commiserate once I’ve collected payment.”

“A drink would be good.” Geralt finally croaked out.

“You certainly look like you need it, it’s been a while since I saw a man with such a miserable mug.” Jaskier informed him, waving the rag in Geralt’s direction. As he spoke, he sheathed his sword and stored the ingredients he had gathered.

“We can meet in the tavern; I’ll collect my pay and have a bath drawn first. Do you mind waiting?”

“No.”

“Man of many words as always, Geralt.” Jaskier said with a small smile “Let’s go then.”

They walked in silence after that, and parted ways when they reached Midscope, Jaskier making his way to the alderman to collect his payment while Geralt located the tavern and left Roach in a nearby stable.

Geralt went through the familiar routine of securing a room and buying supper while he waited. Not long after he saw Jaskier slink up the stairs, trying to be unobtrusive and avoid being seen, covered as he was in blood and muck. Didn’t stop the kitchen maid from noticing him though, and stifling a scream, which received a pained smile from Jaskier who raised his hands palms up before he backed up the stairs and to his room.

The moment playing out between the scared maid and the witcher trying to avoid the unavoidable, scaring humans, was a scene he had played out thousands of times before, or observed his brothers be subjected to. That was the way humans reacted to witchers.

It wasn’t the way humans should react to Jaskier.

Geralt stared in Jaskier’s direction long after he left upstairs. He forced himself to take a moment to gather his thoughts. He’d been searching for Jaskier for over a month, with a single-minded focus and over large distances. And finally, he had found him, and he was alive, and well. And while that was a relief, he now had to face the reality that the fae had spoken true. This wasn’t a simple magic spell or a glamour, Geralt’s senses could confirm that Jaskier was a witcher, mutations and all, and Vesemir had memories of his whole life. Jaskier hadn’t just appeared last month thinking he was a witcher, he had been made into one as a child. His whole life had been taken and stolen. Twisted.

And no one but Geralt was left to remember who Jaskier really was, who he should be. The Jaskier who sang and danced and wrote poetry. Who romanticised and loved adventure, loved love, loved people, spread joy. He had spent his life following his joys and passions, often foolishly and recklessly, but always bravely. That wasn’t something witchers got to be, or something they got to have.

It took an hour before Jaskier returned, hair still damp and curling around his face, clad in a light grey jumper that looked soft and worn, and some brown leather trousers. He was dressed more muted than Geralt had ever seen him, but it was less jarring then walking next to him in full armour.

Breathing him in Geralt could almost pretend. But then their eyes met and he couldn’t help the flinch. They weren’t blue anymore.

Jaskier frowned at him quizzically “Stew any good?”

“Passable.”

Jaskier gestured for some food and ale before turning back to him. “So… what brings you here Geralt?”

Instead of spending the whole hour brooding, he probably should have prepared something to say.

“Work. You?” Geralt grunted.

“Same, the pay isn’t the highest, but Velen is always good for steady work. Any news to share? Seen any of our brothers?”

“Saw Vesemir, he’s alright.”

“Well, good. Great. I saw Eskel last month in Vizima, we took on a griffin together. He is doing well too, wouldn’t come to Velen though, thinks it’s to damp. Coward, I say!” Jaskier proclaimed, throwing his arms out in a wide shrug and giving Geralt a wide smile that dampened when Geralt failed to give a reaction.

Jaskier made a few more attempts at conversation before giving up, and they shared a rather awkward silence as they drank their ale. After a few minutes, Jaskier began tapping his fingers against the table, and looking around the room, his attention shifting from Geralt to his surroundings. Jaskier was clearly familiar with him, their companionship was relatively easy, but there hung an awkwardness over his shoulders, as he sat there opposite an uncommunicative Geralt.

Geralt had grown used to Jaskier’s talkative nature handling conversations for the both of them when he didn’t feel like actively participating, but the Jaskier in front of him did not share the same ease as his Jaskier did, and when Geralt kept giving grunting replies or neglected to answer he grew silent and eventually excused himself to bed, and Geralt was once more left to stew in his worries and regrets.

\-----

When Geralt wakes the next day, his world still feels rocked to its core. His memories feel real, _are_ real. But so are Jaskier’s, and Vesemir’s. A fae can manipulate the perception of reality, it’s why they are so dangerous. But it’s impossible to fool a witcher to this extent, you’d have to know how the mutations alter a human’s scent, not to mention that Jaskier, bespelled into believing himself to be a witcher, would have been dead on his first monster hunt. It’s the type of joke fae like to play, and it's why Geralt spent a month fearing he would find Jaskier dead.

A fae’s ability to manipulate the perception of reality is why they are so dangerous. But those spells or curses can be broken by mages. But Jaskier’s body has been _mutated_. Jaskier is alive, but he is a mutant. That not something a mage can just reverse.

There has to be something he can do, though, Geralt has to get Jaskier back. The only thing he can think of is to get Jaskier to Yennefer. With any hope she can reverse the fae magic, or at least know where he could find answers or a cure. It may be the most complex magic he has heard of, but at the end of the day, curses can always be broken. The only issue being he has no idea where Yennefer is. It’s possible they haven’t even met without the interference of Jaskier and the djinn.

Geralt’s eyes fell on the elven lute he still carried with him, the only physical thing he has to hold on to, to remind himself that his memories are real. Jaskier came into Geralt life like a whirlwind, setting out to help him whether he liked it or not. And he had helped, not that Geralt had ever admitted as much to his face. After just a few years of Jaskier unrelenting campaign to clear his name, Geralt was receiving better contracts, better pay. It helped not having villager think he was there to butcher them.

Jaskier had always done so much for him, some of it loudly, like his songs, but he had also quietly cared for him through a million little gestures over the years, had been the one person on the continent that was always happy to see him… Had Geralt ever said thank you? He knew he hadn’t, but he hoped he had been able to show, in his own way, how much it all had meant.

Geralt was distracted from his maudlin thoughts when he saw Jaskier through his window, carrying his satchels and moving towards the stables. With a start he realised that Jaskier was leaving. Without him.

Geralt threw on a pair of trousers, shoved anything lying around into his satchels and rushed out of the inn towards the stables, arriving just as Jaskier was leading his horse out.

Jaskier have him a surprised look, and Geralt tried desperately to project a normal level of nonchalance. As if he wasn’t disoriented and sleep rumpled, hair loose and unbrushed and his sleep shirt still on.

“Morning Geralt.” Jaskier said, still in a bemused tone, tilting his head questionably.

“Where are you headed?” Geralt demanded to know.

“The alderman gave me a tip on a contract in a nearby town, though I’d head there.” Jaskier replied.

“I’ll join you.” Geralt informed him “It’s on my way, wait here while I get Roach.”

“Um, what? It’s probably just a werewolf, hardly a two-man job.” Jaskier questioned with a frown.

Geralt gave a frustrated huff “I won’t take your reward if that what you are wondering.”

“Well, what other reason would you have to be tagging along?” Jaskier asked sounding confused.

“I’m headed in the same direction.” Geralt frowned. He was so used to Jaskier just coming along, that he had not planned for this eventuality. He needed to get Jaskier to Yennefer, but how? if Jaskier wasn’t even willing to ride to a nearby town with him?

“How do you know if it’s in the same direction? I didn’t tell you where I was going.” Jaskier said with exasperation, throwing his arms out wide.

Frustrated, gesturing, face full of exasperation, Jaskier almost looked like he should. If Geralt made sure to avoid looking him in the eyes. Thinking on his feet, grasping for some logical reason he could have to keep Jaskier at his side until he could find Yennefer, he blurted out “I heard of a sorceress that has a well-paying contract, but it’s a two-man job. I was hoping you’d be willing to come along.”

That was actually a pretty good plan, Geralt thought, congratulating himself.

“How good is the pay?” Jaskier asked, clearly interested. Thank the gods he hasn’t changed too much, Geralt thought.

“A thousand crowns each.” Geralt threw out, hoping Yennefer would be able to solve this issue quick, because he had about five hundred in his purse at the moment.

“Well, why not? With a thousand I could buy Pegasus a new saddle and save some for the winter. And I’ve been in Velen far too long anyway.” Jaskier mused, “Deal, Geralt.”

“We should start heading north. I don’t have her exact location, but once we get to a larger city, I’ll be able to ask around for her whereabouts.” He concluded, thinking that sounded believable enough. He was aware that Jaskier now had the senses to notice a rapid heartbeat or the smell of nerves. He didn’t know if he succeeded in covering the necessary signs or if Jaskier just trusted him enough not to look too closely.

“Hmmm. You know, I’ve always thought you were a strange one Rivia.” Jaskier mused.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Jaskier sniffed “But I suppose you could tag along until we locate the sorceress. But _I’m_ allowing _you_ to come along, so none of that ‘I’m twice your age so you better listen to me fuckery’, understand?”

“Understood.” Geralt agreed, “I’ll be but silent backup” he couldn’t help but add, smiling softly at the echoing of a similar meeting.

“Now that I can fucking believe.” Jaskier snorted. “Alright, get your gear on Geralt, I’ll wait.”

\-----

They started off riding in companionable silence, and after a while Jaskier started whistling as they rode north-west. While it would normally drive Geralt up the wall, some part of him felt reassured that Jaskier was once again making noise. The world felt more right if Jaskier was filling it with sound.

When they reached a creek, they stopped to let the horses drink and rest for a while, eating some provisions while standing watch. Geralt almost made the mistake of setting up a small camp as he usually would at least once a day on the road with Jaskier. But of course, all witchers needed was a bit of dried meat and some water, and even that wasn’t necessary since they ate well the day before.

“So.” Jaskier broke the silence “I’d prefer to camp outside today, unless the rain catches us, save a bit of coin. There’s some fields by Blackbough, we can camp there and contact the alderman about the contract come morning.” Jaskier didn’t phrase any of this as a question, exactly, but he shared more than Geralt probably would have in his shoes.

“Sounds fair.” he replied, and Jaskier gave an absent-minded nod. Back on their saddles, however, Jaskier started up a conversation about the weather, and as Geralt listened to that familiar voice, he could feel his spirits lifting, just a bit.

That night by the campfire, Geralt laid on his bedroll observing Jaskier as he got ready to sleep. He felt something in him loosen as he watched Jaskier set up his bedroll and tucked himself in with a tired sigh. After a month of searching, here Jaskier was. As he fell asleep with Jaskier too far away to reach, he realised with a pang that he hadn’t touched Jaskier since he found him.

\-----

It was hardest first thing in the morning, when he woke to the familiar scents and sounds of a shared camp with Jaskier, only to rise and be met with a pair of eyes that matched his own, bringing him back to this new reality.

While traveling with Jaskier was relatively straight forward, taking on a contract _with_ Jaskier, where he was the uninvited guest was not easy for Geralt. He tried his best to respect the promise he had made, forcing himself to let Jaskier take the lead. Listening to him theorise about the monster, set up their plan, take lead when they entered the cave.

Geralt had nothing against to listening to competent people and following their lead if they knew best. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. And Jaskier was a competent witcher, had to be to survive the Path this long. Still, years of habit were hard to break and he had to do some rather awkward pirouetting to hide that fact that he almost tried to push Jaskier to the side when the werewolf attacked. His flailing and hesitation meant _he_ ended up being a pretty poor backup. Though Jaskier was kind enough not to mention the fact.

Once they collected payment Jaskier paid for two rooms and baths, and Geralt was relaxing in his when Jaskier entered the bathing area to get undressed. Jaskier gave him nothing more than a casual nod as he entered the room, but Geralt couldn’t look away.

It was just all wrong. Where Jaskier should be soft and pampered, he was now all hard muscles and harsh scars. Geralt lets out a mournful noise when he saw the deep claw marks that went from the left side of Jaskier’s neck all the way down his back. Whatever left those scars came within an inch of taking Jaskier’s life. There were wounds that looked like a sword had stabbed him, and many more scars that Geralt couldn’t identify from this distance.

“Geralt? What’s wrong?” Jaskier asks as he approaches to kneel by Geralt’s tub. Jaskier’s eyes are concerned and Geralt can tell that the other witcher is scenting him, worried for injuries maybe, trying to determine why Geralt was acting this way. But seeing Jaskier scent him was just another reminder of what Jaskier was now, of the life that was forced on him because of Geralt.

“Nothing.” He mumbled, staring at the water, though he knows Jaskier will be able to tell that he is lying.

“If you say so.” Jaskier replied, looking up at him with those concerned eyes, reaching up to give Geralt’s shoulder a squeeze before rising to his feet. “I’m just over there if you need anything.”

\-----

Traveling with a witcher instead of a bard was quite different. But also, remarkably similar in some ways. The longer they spent together, the more Jaskier seemed to relax in Geralt's presence, to talk more freely. Geralt wasn’t used to having to get Jaskier to open up, he had always just been an open book, impossible to close even when you wanted to. But now he had to make an effort to ask questions, and hold his side of the conversation. Fortunately, he didn’t need to say much, the more comfortable Jaskier got in his presence, the more he talked.

When they rode side by side with Jaskier prattling on, Geralt would sometimes close his eyes and pretend nothing had changed.

Velen provided the usual fair when it came to contracts, drowners, ghouls, and wraiths, most of them either the result of human violence, or lured there by the dead bodies. They would clear the area from monsters, and by the time another witcher made its way back to the area, the humans would have committed enough terrible acts to fill it with monsters once again.

Jaskier, like Geralt seemed to prefer less populated areas now, no longer drawn to cities and humans. How witchers acted amongst humans varied, they were all subjected to the same fear and disgust, but there were those like Coën and Eskel who always tried to use a calm smile and pleasant words at least first. Then there was Lambert, who’s angrier disposition had him barking back at those who insulted him. Geralt preferred to keep his distance, say as little as he could and leave. Jaskier was still charming and friendly to people, but unless he spoke to children his smile rarely reached his eyes, and he kept his distance from people for the most part, his eyes fixed on them in distrust. Didn’t call anyone dear and avoided crowds, preferring to sit at the back and nurse an ale with Geralt.

It was natural of course, Jaskier was a witcher, they couldn’t mix with humans. But when Geralt noticed Jaskier turn a wistful gaze at the dance floor of a tavern, before pretending he hadn’t been looking, Geralt burned with his desire to kill the fae that took this from Jaskier. He would do anything to give Jaskier back that carefree happiness, his place among humans.

But he was powerless. He needed to find Yennefer.

\-----

Luck was for once on Geralt’s side, and in the next town he heard word of a beautiful sorceress dressed in black and white, who had taken up residence at a local baron’s house. It sounded like Yennefer, and the fictitious contract money had Jaskier cheerfully adjusting their trajectory and heading for the sorceress's current location.

After a few days of travel, they arrived near Yennefer’s property late evening and decided to camp in the woods before approaching her in the morn. When Jaskier fell asleep, Geralt snuck out of camp and made his way to Yennefer in the cover of night. He knew her well enough to know she’d likely still be up; her preference having always been late evenings and sleeping in till noon.

In a situation similar to the one in Rinde, some servant belonging to the real lord of the manor opened the door and tried to halt his entrance, but with a quick jab of Geralt’s fist, he went down.

He found Yennefer finishing up an extravagant meal alone in the dining room and approached the table.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg, I’ve come to ask for your help.” He announced himself, trying to sound respectful.

“You’ve barged in rather rudely I must say.” Yennefer replied in a challenging tone, not deigning to make eye contact with him, instead focusing on cutting the meat on her plate.

Despite the urgency clouding his mind now that he was finally so close to a possible cure, Geralt allowed himself a moment to breathe in the familiar scent of lilacs and gooseberries. He felt a pang of regret that to Yennefer he was nothing but a stranger, once again the only one to carry their memories. But there was some relief as well, because his ill-fated djinn wish had been lifted, and for the first time in years, both of them were free from outside influence. Whatever relationship they formed, they could trust it. In that way, he could appreciate this second chance.

“I’m Geralt of Rivia, a witcher. My friend, also a witcher, is under a fae curse, and I need your help to break it.”

“The famous Butcher of Blaviken.” She drawled, and he could tell he had her attention now, as she rose from her seat to survey him up close “I didn’t know your sort had friends.”

“We do, and I need you to help him. I’ll do anything.” He said, the past echoing in his head.

“I can think of a favour or two that you could help me out with, as payment.” Yennefer replied in a teasing tone “But you seem to have misplaced your cursed little friend.”

“He is back at camp. He doesn’t know he is cursed, I told him we were here for a job. I’m hoping you can look him over when we arrive.” Geralt asked.

“Intriguing. I didn’t expect witchers to be hatching little plots.” Yennefer’s eyes were now staring intently into his, and the hairs at the back of his neck rose when he felt her magic.

“I was told witchers don’t have emotions, but those people clearly haven’t met you. You seem to be experiencing so many I can’t tell what on earth is going on in there.” Yennefer murmured, her violet eyes searing into his as she circled Geralt. “You seem to have gotten yourself into an interesting mess, but luckily for you, I’ve been bored for years. So why not. Bring your cursed friend here tomorrow at noon, and I’ll examine him. We can discuss payment after, when I know how much of a bother this will be.”

Geralt inclined his head “Thank you, Yennefer.”

But she had already turned her back on him and was demanding dessert from her servant, so he took it as his que to leave.

\-----

“I’ve not met many sorceresses, most of them are right snobs, very stuck up about us and our signs. But me and Lambert worked a job for Kiera Metz once, and she sure knew how to have a good time. So, some of them are good eggs.” Jaskier cheerfully informed him while packing up camp.

Geralt couldn’t help but smile as he listened, and they slowly led their horses towards Yennefer’s, with Jaskier chattering about sorceresses and adventures, and Geralt sometimes interjecting with bits of information. Once Jaskier had exhausted the subject of magic, they fell into a companionable silence. Geralt casting surreptitious glances at Jaskier when he turned his face up to soak in the sun.

Jaskier gave an impressed whistle when they arrived at Yennefer’s borrowed manor, and Geralt took a deep breath and tried to settle his nerves as they led their horses to the stables.

A different guard greeted them at the door and showed them into the dining room, which was set up with tea and pastries. Neither of them were dressed in armour that day, and Geralt grabbed hold of the back of Jaskier’s shirt to pull him back as he tried to sneak a pastry off the table.

“What idiot steels sweets from witches?” Geralt hissed at him “How have you survived this long?”

“I thought she was your friend! You don’t trust her baking?” Jaskier pouted.

Yennefer chose that moment to elegantly glide in, raising a sarcastic eyebrow the two squabbling witchers. “Please, join me, gentlemen.”

“Thank you, Lady Yennefer.” Jaskier said with a small bow, sending Geralt a triumphant look as he took a seat right next to the cakes. Rolling his eyes, Geralt took the opposite seat.

“So, Yennefer, Geralt tells me you have work needing two witchers. And here we are, ready to slay any beast that may be troubling such a fair maiden.” Jaskier said with a wink and a smile. He was clearly relishing being in the presence of someone who didn’t fear him, and seeing Jaskier this relaxed and back to his flirting ways, was worth the awkwardness of watching them flirt in front of him.

“You do look like a capable pair.” Yennefer purred, eyes slowly traveling along Jaskier’s body, causing him to preen. Geralt frowned and cleared his throat. Actually, it was not worth it, he decided.

“But first, let’s have tea, I only just woke and can’t be expected to deal with such serious matters just yet.”

“My Lady’s wish is my command.” Jaskier demurred, eyes eagerly falling on the spread in front of them.

And so Geralt got to spend an hour watching Yennefer and Jaskier banter and flirt. Then all of a sudden Jaskier’s head hit the table and Geralt sprang to his feet and drew his dagger, his instincts at high alert.

“Do calm down. I’ve had him sedated so that I can examine him. Pick him up, I’ll lead you to my work station.” Yennefer ordered, rising to her feet, and Geralt sheepishly put away his dagger and carefully took Jaskier into his arms, making sure to wipe the cream off his face before following Yennefer down to the basement.

“Lay him down on the table.” She ordered, while walking around the room.

Geralt carefully placed Jaskier on the table while Yennefer started placing candles around him.

“Tell me how he got cursed, recount everything you remember, even the insignificant parts. What was said, word for word.”

Geralt gave a truthful recount of everything that had happened the day. How Jaskier was taken and when he fell silent, he noticed how still Yennefer was. Knew her enough to see concern in her gaze, where before there had only been calm confidence.

“Step back and let me examine him.”

She took her time, mixing a concoction and swiping it across Jaskier’s forehead, mixing incense and herbs and slowly letting the smoke from around his body. Her face revealed nothing, but her eyes looked more and more concerned.

At last she pulled up a chair next to Jaskier head, placed her palms on either side of his face, entering a meditative state.

Geralt paced the room for over an hour as he waited for Yennefer to return to consciousness. When she did, she looked exhausted.

“There is not a single trace of magical interference on Jaskier.” She stated in a considering voice.

“That’s impossible.” Geralt replied.

“No curse, no magic was used to make Jaskier a witcher.” Yennefer said, choosing her words carefully.

“Two months ago, he was a bard!” He shouted, her answers not making any sense to him.

“No, two months ago the man lying on this table was a witcher. Two months ago, in a different version of reality, your friend Jaskier was a bard.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Geralt, the bard wasn’t turned into a witcher by some spell. The only magic applied to Jaskier was the traditional mutations in Kaer Morhen. The fae you fought didn’t change him with magic, and I think you knew this already. What that means is that if the change wasn’t magic then there is no magic for me to reverse.”

“But they changed his whole life.” Geralt implored.

“Yes, you told me, that the fae said it plucked his thread out of its tapestry and weaved a new path for him. How much do you know about the fae Geralt?” Yennefer asked, and there was sympathy in her eyes.

“Not that much, witchers tend to stay away from them.”

“So does our guild. There was an attempt, such as with the elves, to find out the secrets to their magic. But while the elves wield chaos just like us. What we call the fae, they relate to chaos differently. It’s like they are both chaos and earth, and the rules of chaos are different to them for reasons that are still beyond us. As far as we can tell, many of the gods worshipped by humans can be traced back to the fae.”

“What are you trying to tell me?” Geralt asked, fearing the answer.

“I’m telling you that the reason people worshiped the fae as gods, is that they can wield an immense power that’s not magic in any way we understand it. In Skellige they used to be called Asar, in Vengerberg we called them æsir. No one knows why they withdrew, but now they are known as fae or remembered as gods. There are tales dating back centuries, of a now forgotten god called Urd, who weaves the fates of every creature, determining their fate, and cutting their thread when they die.”

“Something changed the course of Jaskier’s life, yes, but it was lived without the influence of magic. And so, no mage, no matter how strong, will be able to help you. It has been done, and this is who he is.”

“I will find this, this Urd, and I will make them change Jaskier back.” Geralt swore, anger rising.

“Good luck. Maybe in a few hundred years you could even succeed in finding Her, though I very much doubt it. But let’s say you did, only for Her to weave back the thread for Jaskier the Bard and leave you standing on the grave of a human that passed away decades ago.”

“A human death after a safe long life is preferable to a witcher’s life. That was his right!” Geralt roared.

“So, you would take this man’s life and future from him, change it to suit you, without even asking?” Yennefer asked him, and her voice was dangerously even.

Geralt deflated. “Would it even be possible?”

“No.” Yennefer replied coldly.

“It’s just not fair. Not right.” Geralt whispered, the fight gone out of him.

“No, I suppose it isn’t. But when has that ever mattered on this continent?”

They stood there in silence for a while, Yennefer gathering her strength, Geralt his thoughts. After some time, she called for a servant to collect Jaskier and put him up in a guest room, and disappeared, with strict instructions to Geralt not to bother her anymore that day.

Geralt was given the room by Jaskier’s, but instead he went out and sat in Yennefer’s garden, pacing as the sun slowly set.

When the sun started rising, he went inside Jaskier’s room to check on him.

“I’m sorry.” He told the sleeping man. “I’ve failed you utterly, and you’ll never even know. You always trusted me, and look where it got you.” Geralt said, eyes tearing up.

“I’m so sorry Jaskier.” He repeated, taking a gentle hold of Jaskier hand, so as not to wake him. “I’m so sorry.”

\-----

Yennefer made up some lie about her servants mixing up the herbs for her magic with her tea and accidentally drugging them, and after a glance at Geralt, Jaskier seemed to accept the excuse without further question.

Yennefer also made up some ludicrous story of how she had slayed the beast herself before they arrived and had no need of witchers anymore, but would be glad to offer her hospitality for the rest of the weekend as a consolation prize.

It was impossible to say if Jaskier bought Yennefer’s story or not, but if he was bitter at the loss of coin, he didn’t show it, instead enjoying the weekend and pestering Yennefer with endless questions about her adventures and magic, and managed to set her curtains on fire demonstrating igni.

It hurt to look at Jaskier. It hurt even more when he was being bubbly and happy, less guarded. He was so close to the person Geralt had known. But then their eyes would meet and the illusion burst, and Geralt was reminded yet again of what he was guilty of.

\-----

Their last night with Yennefer, she ordered Geralt to stay behind for a drink, and Jaskier left them in the dining room with a wink and a smile thrown in their direction. Once he had left Yennefer refilled their wine glasses before walking to stand by the balcony, waiting for Geralt join her.

“What will you do now?” She asks him.

“You told me there is nothing to do, so we will leave here, and I’ll stay by his side, keep him safe.” Geralt answers after some consideration.

“Jaskier is a witcher, Geralt. He can take care of himself.”

“Our work is dangerous. He could get hurt.”

“Yes. Some creature could harm him. That’s the life you both lead, a life he has accepted.”

“I have to protect him.”

“You aren’t protecting him Geralt, you are harming him.” Yennefer says as she turns to face him, and Geralt is surprised to see that she looks angry. Her body is composed, but her violet eyes glare into him.

“Yen, what are you talking about?”

“I looked into your mind and I saw who he used to be, who you miss. You will never get that man back. If you can’t accept that, if you can’t accept Jaskier for who he is now, you need to leave his side.”

“I can’t leave him!” Geralt growls at her, as if she is threatening him.

“When you think he isn’t looking, you look at him as if he has broken your heart. Or you look disappointed, flinching when you are reminded of who he isn’t. You wish for him to change, to be the memory of your Jaskier, a bard, when that man is a witcher.” Yennefer snapped at him.

“He should be a bard! He should be safe!” Geralt snapped back.

“He isn’t, and he will never be. And he can survive that, has survived that. What he won't be able to survive, is you forcing your way into his life, just to stay and look at him as if he is _wrong_. It is clear to me, to him, that he disappoints you, that you look at him and wish he was something else. He doesn’t understand why.” Yennefer’s cold tone had given away to anger, and they were practically shouting at each other now.

“I wish it for his sake! Not mine!” Geralt objected.

“Is that right? I don’t believe you, but the reason doesn’t matter much.” Yennefer paused to draw a breath, and when she continued speaking, her voice sounded far away “It’s worse to be seen as less, to be looked at with disappointment and disgust, if it comes from those who should accept you. Jaskier can face human scorn and monsters, but it’s another type of pain to be forced to change by those who should accept you. Geralt, leave him be.”

“I can’t just.” Geralt stammered out, not even knowing how to finish that sentence.

“If you can’t accept who he is, if you can’t love who he is, leave. You will harm him more by staying. Love is acceptance, not transformation.” With those words Yennefer finished her wine and left Geralt standing by the balcony.

Geralt stood there a long time, before he came to a decision.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone that commented on the first chapter, it means the world! 
> 
> And so many thanks to [dibs on the bard](https://twitter.com/dibsonsmth) who was my beta this chapter! 
> 
> It's not properly explained in the fic, but Geralt ends up with Ciri as his child surprise the book canon way (Calanthe invites him, Jaskier was not there) instead of the netflix way in this new reality.

_I knew that look, dear: eyes always seeking_

_Was there in someone that dug long ago_

_So I will not ask you why you were creeping_

_In some sad way, I already know_

_So I will not ask you where you came from_

_I would not ask and neither would you_

_Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips_

_We should just kiss like real people do_

“Cheer up Geralt, so the contract didn’t pan out, it happens, but we got a few nights in a nice manor and pretty little pastries. Could be worse, really, so stop looking so dreadfully glum.” Jaskier told him as they saddled their horses the next morning.

Geralt gave him a noncommittal “Hmm”, forcing himself to meet Jaskier’s eyes as he did so. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d been avoiding eye contact until Yennefer pointed out his behaviour.

“So. I’m thinking it’s still a few weeks until it’s time to head to Kaer Morhen, but since we are pretty far south I’m going to start aiming in that direction, slowly work my way there.” Jaskier informed him casually as they led their horses out “What about you Geralt?”

Of course. Jaskier would expect them to part ways now that the job Geralt had claimed to need him for wasn’t happening. Geralt faltered, and couldn’t really think of any believable excuse as to why he needed to stick by Jaskier's side.

“Can I join you, until Kaer Morhen?” he asked, holding his breath while he waited for the answer. What would he even do with himself if Jaskier declined? Follow behind and hope he didn’t notice? There was literally no way he would get away with that with another witcher.

“Um. I suppose you can?” Jaskier shrugged “I don’t mind the company. But can I ask why, Geralt?”

_Because I can’t stand the thought of letting you out of my sight? Because yesterday, on that balcony, I vowed to love you, just as you are, and I’d like to get to know who that is,_ Geralt thought.

“Hmm.” Geralt replied.

Jaskier waited patiently for an actual explanation. Fuck.

“Ah.” Geralt tried. “Well, I’m going in the same direction?”

“So you want to travel together, for weeks, just because we are both going to winter in Kaer Morhen?” Jaskier asked, in a rather sceptical tone.

“Yes.” Geralt declared, doubling down on his answer.

“Well, if you’re sure, I guess off we go.” Jaskier chuckled, shaking his head and setting course north west.

As Geralt urged Roach to follow, he gave a prayer of thanks that Jaskier’s easy-going nature had survived the mutations. There was no way Eskel or Lambert would have let Geralt get away with this level of bullshit.

\-----

Traveling with another witcher, now that Geralt let himself appreciate it, was nice. Villagers were less likely to back out of payment when they saw a second witcher looming, and more likely to hold their tongues. Not that that stopped everyone.

Geralt could tell the moment they entered the town that this would not end well. But, the past few villages had not resulted in very lucrative contracts, and they were in need of coin, so Geralt walked in after Jaskier.

The people gave them weary looks as they entered the town gates, keeping their distance, but clearly word of their arrival spread fast, because more and more people gathered to stare as Jaskier and Geralt made their way to the town square to see if there were any witcher contracts on the notice board.

As they had a look, whispers and mutterings of ‘the butcher’ started reaching Geralt’s ears, and after that it didn’t take long until the villagers started throwing whatever was on hand at them. Geralt did his best to resolutely ignore what was happening. But just before a tomato was about to strike the back of his head, Jaskier plucked it out of the air and took a huge messy bite, letting the juice run down his chin. He then caught an apple aimed at his head, making a big show of pocketing it.

“I’m _so_ glad we could bring you all together like this.” Jaskier barked at them with a sardonic smile and a wave of his hand “And thank you for the food. Now, if someone could kindly point us to where we can find the priest needing our assistance, we shall be on our way.”

Someone must have pointed towards the priest’s residence, because Jaskier clapped a hand on Geralt’s shoulder and started leading him away, while muttering “Fucking humans” under his breath.

Geralt had expected the priest to deny their services, but whatever was terrorising the cemetery must be scarier than public opinion, because Jaskier managed to charm them into a contract.

The description given by the priest didn’t match any of the more common monsters for the region, and Geralt was thinking over different options as they walked out of the town. They had decided to set up camp far enough away that they wouldn’t be easily found by townsfolk itching to pick a fight with witchers.

As they walked, Geralt noticed Jaskier mumbling to himself, almost singing under his breath. This was the first time he had heard Jaskier sing since he found him again, and Geralt was filled with such an unexpected amount of joy at the sound, he didn’t know quite what to do with himself. It’s possible he stared a bit too intensely at the other witcher, because Jaskier glared at him suspiciously from the corner of his eye and picked up his pace. He held his head high and kept singing, though quieter now. “a creature made of stone or wood, made by mage, killed by… no not a golem.”

Geralt hurried after him, dogging Jaskier’s heels, quite overcome with the fact that the man was singing. Singing! Geralt couldn’t stop the grin taking over his face while Jaskier visibly bristled at him.

They continued marching like that, Jaskier trying to put some space between them and Geralt refusing to let him, when suddenly Jaskier gave out a triumphant “Hah!”

And then Jaskier sang “...wight made foes, they hunt in packs and scorch with fire, barghests sure are dire,” seemingly having gotten over his shyness about the singing in his excitement of having identified the monster.

“It has to be a wight! And it’s creating barghests whenever the villagers try to go near it. It fits everything the priest told us, Pegasus.” Jaskier triumphantly told his horse.

“I think you’re right.” Geralt replied fondly, despite not having been invited into the conversation.

“Right, yes. Of course I am.” Jaskier replied a little flustered.

Geralt said nothing, just gazed fondly at Jaskier.

“Well, when we had to memorise the bestiary, I turned all the monster descriptions into rhymes I could sing. I know it’s childish, but it was the only thing that worked. They managed to beat literacy into me, but I was terrible at memorisation no matter how hard I tried. But me and Lambert came up with this way, and it’s saved my life more times than not.” Jaskier explained bashfully.

“It’s not childish.” Geralt firmly replied “I like it.”

Jaskier gave him a surprised smile at that, clearly expecting some teasing. But Geralt was just so charmed by the fact that Jaskier had managed to bring something like singing into this life, that he blurted out “You have a good voice.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Jaskier replied. “It was just a means to an end.”

Geralt took a step closer “I like your voice.” he repeated, looking into Jaskier eyes.

Jaskier gaze flitted about his face, unsure of what Geralt was doing. Geralt wasn’t sure either, he hadn’t meant to initiate anything, but he had been so drawn in by Jaskier that he had approached without thinking.

He wanted to kiss Jaskier, he had missed those lips against his own, but he knew he had to thread carefully. Do this right. Geralt reached out slowly, signalling his every move, and pushed some of Jaskier’s hair away from his eyes. He noticed Jaskier was holding his breath, eyes focused on his. Geralt gave him a fond look and took a step back, intending to start setting up camp.

Jaskier didn’t breathe out until Geralt’s back was to him. Geralt felt a bit smug about that.

Though they set up camp quite far from the town, the hostility they had met had put them both on their guard, so they agreed to take watch. They had put out the fire after supper, but the crescent moon and provided more than enough light for Geralt to gaze at Jaskier.

What were his intentions towards Jaskier? Yennefer had told him to leave Jaskier alone, if Geralt couldn’t love him for who he was now. And standing on that balcony Geralt had thought long and hard about his answer.

Truth be told, he had missed Jaskier’s incessant chatter, colourful clothes, his singing. Had missed the blue eyes, the soft body that always felt right in his arms. But was that why he loved Jaskier? Would he have left him when age changed his body and clouded his eyes, or if he felt like putting down his lute? No, of course not. Geralt didn’t love Jaskier for a talent or a few physical characteristics. He loved him for the kindness and fierceness of his soul, for who he was, not what he was. He had been so focused on everything that had changed in Jaskier, but the same soul shone out those eyes, now that Geralt allowed himself to see it, to recognise it.

Of course Jaskier was different now, he was a man who had survived numerous trials and traumas and he had been shaped by them. A bard and a witcher might share the same soul, but upbringing and the difference in how the world had treated him had left its marks, just as it did to all witchers. But just because Jaskier could no longer wear his heart on his sleeve, didn’t mean it wasn’t there, or that it was any less precious. It just had to be coaxed out with trust and care.

No, Geralt wasn't upset at who Jaskier has become, he was proud, in fact. He was upset that Jaskier hadn't gotten to be loved and adored. That he never got to choose to be soft. That such a kind heart was spit and cursed at when he walked amongst humans.

Geralt had tried, but if he couldn’t give Jaskier back a world that loved and adored him, then _Geralt_ would love and adore him hard enough that the rest of the world wouldn’t matter. He would give him a place to rest his head, a place where he could let his guard down and be soft. Jaskier had done that for him once, had been the first person to love and accept Geralt both as a man and a witcher, and patiently taught him how to love. Now it was his turn. Though being the one to initiate and nurture affection still felt clumsy and awkward, he swore to learn, to work at it, hoping to one day have Jaskier look into his eyes and see a home.

\-----

Sitting next to Jaskier at breakfast as they planned how to deal with the wight and its barghests, Geralt had to admit he was at a bit of a loss. It was one thing to swear to love Jaskier with only the moon as witness, it was another to act on that vow. And to show it in a way that Jaskier believed was genuine, but didn’t overwhelm him and have him running to the hills.

Geralt was struck with deep empathy towards Jaskier, who once had the patience to stick around and keep trying, despite Geralt doing everything he could to resist. Convincing a witcher they were loved wasn’t an easy task, but Geralt was proof that it could be done. And he had some advantages up his sleeve, he knew what had worked on Jaskier before, and what had worked on himself, and he hoped that gave him enough experience to manage this.

“Geralt. You’ve been staring at me for ages. I asked if we should scout out the graveyard while the wight is likely sleeping, then come back at night to see if we can reason with it? Hopefully there will be no need to kill it, if it agrees to relocate to a less populated area.” Jaskier asked.

“Good plan, we aren’t far from the Redanian and Temerian border, it’s unpopulated now and there should be enough buried bodies for it to thrive.” Geralt replied “The wight will be dead to the world at noon, and I doubt the town will allow us in. I could use the time to gather some herbs, how are your stocks?”

“I’m running low on bison grass and arenaria.” Jaskier replied in a thoughtful voice “And there are a few others I wouldn’t mind having a little extra of, in case the frost comes early.”

“Then let’s pack up camp and secure the horses, and we will have a few hours to re-stock.” Geralt suggested.

Flowers were romantic, right? He knew Jaskier must still care for them considering he kept the name.

With Jaskier’s agreement, they packed up their camp and led the horses farther into the woods so no passer-by might notice them on accident.

“Shall I take east and you take west?” Jaskier suggested, as they stepped into the woods. He was wearing a loose pair of trackers trousers, and his well worn gray jumper, carrying just a dagger and pouch, ready for the task at hand.

“We have hours to kill, what’s the hurry? Let’s explore the east first.” Geralt replied, wanting to keep Jaskier at his side.

“Alright then, as you please.” Jaskier replied with a crooked smile and a confused look, but he raised no objections. “I must say, traveling with you is not how I would have expected.”

“And what were you expecting?”

“Oh, I don’t know, more grunts maybe. Certainly that you would be more, I don’t know, focused on the hunt and nothing but the hunt. Wanting to show me how a real witcher does things et cetera. I’ve known you a while and you are not really known to, to take a moment and smell the flowers, Geralt.”

“Hmmm. Well, people change with age.”

“Yes, I do suppose you are very old.” Jaskier agreed with an exaggerated nod and a mock serious face.

“Hey there, this old man can still show you a thing or two.” Geralt drawled, giving Jaskier a suggestive smile.

The conversation remained light and carefree as they walked through the forest, gathering herbs and talking while the sun rose in the sky.

It was with light hearts and good moods that they returned to camp and got ready to scout out the graveyard for clues to the wight’s lair. With two pairs of eyes they made fast work of it, and were soon back to camp to prepare.

Geralt set to work preparing elementia oil in case they would need to fight, while Jaskier volunteered to go hunt for their lunch. He returned within the hour with two rabbits that he skinned and prepared, as they sat in companionable silence waiting for the sun to set.

I could get used to this, Geralt thought with a smile.

\-----

As the leaves fell from the trees signaling the end of autumn, and frost started greeting them in the mornings, Jaskier and Geralt were slowly making a winding path towards Kaer Morhen. For the past two weeks Geralt had done his best to, well, court Jaskier.

Though he’d never use that word outside his own head, he had no other way to describe his fumbling attempts to show affection. And he would fully admit they were fumbling, he had never gone out of his way to seduce someone before, people either found his appearance or company pleasing or they didn’t, there was no point trying to convince humans he was worth their time. But it had him at a bit of a loss now.

He had made sure that Jaskier was restocked on anything he might need, took him on small de-tours to show off nice views he had discovered. He also, and he would never live this down if Lambert or Eskel found out, found as many reasons as possible to avail himself of his clothing, even in the cold November air. Jaskier, from before, had never been shy with his praise, and Geralt hoped his appearance was still as pleasing. Geralt had never been the most expressive, and words had never come easily to him, but he was trying his best to not hide what he was feeling, to let Jaskier see and smell how his company warmed Geralt.

He had to proceed carefully though. It wasn’t uncommon for witchers, especially when still in training, to lend each other a hand, so to speak. Or to find a bit of release with a comrade in arms, when the nights were long and the path was grueling. If he didn’t do this right, if he went too fast, Jaskier would think that all he was after was some release they wouldn’t speak of in the light of day.

At first Jaskier mostly looked bemused and amused at Geralt's attentions, but as time went on, Geralt began to notice a shift, a bit of cautious interest. With another week passing, Geralt could tell his efforts were beginning to have an effect on Jaskier. Jaskier’s gaze was lingering on his, a soft smile greeted Geralt every morning from across the campsite. If Geralt sat down close enough that their sides touched, Jaskier might lean against him for a moment, and Geralt could breathe him in.

Geralt could get used to this seduction thing, at least with Jaskier, he found himself thinking. It was heady and addicting, seeing Jaskier’s body language slowly open up, his scent turn sweet. Their earlier easy comradery now had an undercurrent of tension. They were both witchers, hiding arousal was impossible. Jaskier tried, and Geralt did him the courtesy of pretending to be unaware, but Geralt made no such attempts. Jaskier’s body, as he came out of the river, or when he worked himself into a sweat practicing at camp, when his touch lingered or he laughed himself silly over one of his own stories. Geralt let the scent of his arousal and affection carry, leaning back and meeting Jaskier’s gaze head on. At first it flustered Jaskier, and he would flush red, stammer, avoid Geralt’s gaze. Now though, he had finally started eyeing Geralt back.

\-----

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Jaskier asked him a few nights later as he supported him up the stairs to their shared room at the inn in Joki, their last stop before Kaer Morhen. “You know, I always thought you disliked me Geralt.” Jaskier continued, the ale having clearly loosened his tongue.

“Why is that?” Geralt asked in an amused tone, curious. He had wondered about the relationship Jaskier had with, well, himself. He had been too busy with his loss and worry when they met to pay it any mind. Jaskier had definitely been friendly and he trusted him, but he had been hesitant with him at first. Like he got left alone at a table with a family member he cared for but had nothing in common with.

“I figured you never got over that time me and Lambert cut your hair off.” Jaskier told him, scrunching up his nose. “You always blamed me for it, but it was all Lambert’s idea, you know! And it grew back. Eventually.”

Jaskier’s hand reached out to pet his hair and Geralt let out an amused snort as he manoeuvred Jaskier onto one of the beds.

“But you don’t dislike me anymore?” Jaskier asked, big golden eyes gazing up at him.

“I never really disliked you. I couldn’t.” Geralt replied, as he removed Jaskier’s boots and threw the covers over him. Jaskier gave a contented hum and turned on his side, closing his eyes.

“And you, Jaskier, do you like me?” Geralt drawled in a teasing tone.

Jaskier opened one eye “Maaaybe.” He mouthed silently, biting his lip on a smile.

“Good.” Geralt rumbled in reply.

The moment dragged on, Jaskier’s face flushed and playful, that full lip still caught in his teeth. Geralt wanted nothing more than to bend forward and suck that lower lip into his mouth. But now wasn’t the time, when Jaskier was drunk and sleepy. Geralt couldn’t completely stem his urge to touch however. His fingers brushing the hair away from Jaskier’s face, Geralt bent down and gave Jaskier’s cheek a lingering kiss.

“Good night.” Geralt whispered against Jaskier’s ear.

The kiss may have been chaste, but this close to Jaskier, the younger man would be able to smell his desire on him, and that bubbling happiness too. He hoped it was clear how much Jaskier’s company pleased him. Jaskier’s scent was so sweet now, so welcoming, that it was harder and harder not to lean in for more. But he still wished to take this slow, wished to nurture affection and love, not just desire, so he pulled back before the moment became too charged and he moved too fast.

They had their own beds, though the room was small enough that there wasn’t even space for a night stand between them. Geralt blew out the candles and got into bed, turning to look at Jaskier, and seeing those big eyes gazing back at him, hair messy and cheeks flushed. He was broader now, harder and stronger, but he looked impossibly young at this moment. Jaskier had always looked young, and with the mutations slowing his aging he didn’t look a day over twenty, if that.

“Do you remember a time before you became a witcher?” Geralt whispered to him in the darkness. The question wasn’t planned, but he found himself needing to know if Jaskier remembered the creature that brought him to Kaer Morhen.

“I do.” Jaskier whispered back.

“What do you remember?” He prompted.

“Before I came to Kaer Morhen, I was never cold or hungry, never in pain, all my physical needs were taken care of. So I assume my parents had enough money to have me well cared for. I remember being lonely. I remember reaching for my mother, but always being carried off by strangers. I don’t know why they gave me up when they had the resources to care for me, but. I don’t remember any love, I can’t picture my parent’s faces, so I don’t find it too strange that they didn’t keep me.”

“You didn’t deserve being taken away from them, being made into a witcher.” Geralt couldn’t help but say.

“Hmmm.” Jaskier sighed, sounding tired “Did any of us? We were all just little boys, too young to have deserved anything.”

“You could have been...” Geralt started to say, but his voice broke and he was unable to finish that sentence.

“But I’m not. I won’t be, whatever you are picturing. Our kind, we don’t get anything but the Path, and then death.” Jaskier told him, repeating a sentiment that Geralt himself had believed for close to a century. “You of all people know this, you are like the poster boy for broody witchers.”

But for the first time, a voice in his head asked _witchers can’t love, can’t have a family… but who is left to enforce it? Maybe once, when we were plentiful and had someone to answer to, they could have put us down for straying off the path. But who on this miserable continent would care enough to stop me from loving you? Whoever they were, they wouldn’t live long enough to succeed._

“Hmm.” Geralt replied.

\-----

Though they had attempted to arrive before the snow, luck wasn’t on their side, and they spent two days carefully leading their horses up to the keep. So when they heard Vesemir’s shout of “Who comes?” they breathed out in relief.

“Geralt and Jaskier.” Jaskier shouted back.

Soon the gate opened and Eskel came out to greet them, giving them both a brief but firm hug.

“Who else is here?” Jaskier asks, voice eager.

“Vesemir, Coën, and Lambert.” Eskel replied with a smile.

Jaskier had been leading Roach and Pegasus, but hearing this he unceremoniously threw the renis in Geralt’s and Eskel’s direction before taking off running.

“Youth.” Eskel muttered, shaking his head with a smile.

Eskel accompanied Geralt to the stables, where they got the horses settled and carried Geralt’s and Jaskier’s gear inside.

“Yield!”

“No!”

Laughter greeted them and they found Lambert and Jaskier wrestling on the floor by the entrance. They are both laughing too much to keep the upper hand for more than a moment, but seem content to keep trying to win anyway.

At least until Vesemir arrived and chastised them “Two minutes the two of you are in one place and you’ve knocked over half the furniture and let all the warm air out.”

“Sorry.” They replied in unison.

“Your gear, Jaskier.” Eskel says, sounding unimpressed, but there is laughter in his eyes.

“How kind of you, good witcher!” Jaskier beamed shamelessly at Eskel, who just rolled his eyes in reply and ruffled Jaskier’s hair when he went to unburden him.

Settling in happened like it always did, though Geralt realised with a pang of regret that he wouldn’t be sleeping by Jaskier’s side anymore.

Well, not unless he was invited.

Dinner that night was a pleasant affair, joking with his brothers and hearing what they all had been up to the past year. Though sadly it had obviously been Lambert’s turn to cook.

Eskel wrapped up a tale of a forktale he had slain just when Jaskier returned to the table with a bottle of vodka.

“While you were sweating in Temaria, we got served pretty pastries by a sorceress.” Jaskier bragged as he poured the vodka.

“I thought you and Lambert got into enough trouble with Metz last year, how did you already find another one?” Eskel asked Lambert.

“Don’t look at me. Who have you been traveling with?” Lambert asked, tone curious as he turned to Jaskier.

“Geralt. He found me in Velen about two months past, convinced me to go look for work from a sorceress. Turned out to be a bust, but Yennefer of Vengerberg was a damned fine host, so no complaints from me.”

Both Lambert and Eskel looked surprised at the news. “And you just… traveled together after?” Lambert asked in a skeptical tone.

“Well, we were both coming here, so why not?” Jaskier said with an easy shrug.

They seemed to accept Jaskier’s answer, but that just meant curious eyes turned to him. Which was unfair, because Jaskier had used his shitty reasoning, and now Geralt didn’t know what to say. So he just frowned vaguely at his brothers to discourage further conversation.

“I’ve never heard of you traveling with anyone for such a long time.” Eskel mused, considering Geralt. “I think it suits you, I’ve never seen you this… relaxed.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt conceded, and nabbed the vodka from Jaskier before the two younger witchers managed to finish it all.

It wasn’t long before he found his eyes drawn to Jaskier again. His arms were resting on the table, shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, as he was leaning forwards while animatedly telling Lambert a story about the contract in Velen where Geralt had fallen arse first into a swamp. Geralt found himself distracted by Jaskier in the soft candle light, taking in the laughing eyes and wide grin. His gesturing hands were drawing Geralt’s attention to strong forearms, broad shoulders, and his scarred neck, and whenever he shifted his position Geralt could spot the hair covering his chest, since Jaskier never buttoned up his shirts properly.

When Jaskier reached the climax of the story Geralt almost got hit in the face by Jaskier’s wildly gesturing hand, but his reflexes have him catching it in his own, just before it would have made contact with his nose. Jaskier’s eyes meet his in surprise, and Geralt holds on to his hand just a moment longer than necessary, savouring their closeness.

He realises his mistake when Eskel gives an embarrassed cough. He had gotten so used to projecting his feelings, his intentions towards Jaskier, that it had started to become natural to him not to hide them. But whereas before they had either been alone or surrounded by humans, he had now inadvertently shared his desire for Jaskier with everyone in the dining room. He turned back to Eskel and haltingly started a conversation, hoping no one would comment. From the corner of his eyes he saw that Jaskier was doing his best to pretend nothing happened, but the quirk of a lip and the flush to his cheeks showed he wasn’t upset.

He was just about to breathe out when he noticed the angry glare Lambert was throwing his way.

\-----

Vesemir had been eying Geralt and Jaskier with concern whenever he saw them together, and after a few days he seemed to have decided it was time for him and Geralt to talk.

“I see you found Jaskier then.” Vesemir stated when they found themselves alone in the library one afternoon.

“I did.” Geralt agreed.

“And you understand now, that he is a witcher?” Vesemir asked after a long pause, frowning at him in worry.

“Yes. I understand.” Geralt replied before drawing in a deep breath. “Jaskier is a witcher, always has been.”

He had a choice to make here, he could lie, say he was out of his mind on some type of spell last time he was here, and Vesemir would let the matter drop. Or.

“It was like I said when I was here last, though I did not understand it fully. Me and Jaskier, we meddled in matters beyond us, and… this was the cost. I knew Jaskier as a bard, and now I know him as a witcher.” Geralt found himself revealing.

Vesemir gave a nod and carefully chose his next words “I can’t argue against whatever is in there,” Vesemir said tapping Geralt’s temple lightly “It will be your truth. Just as long as you can see the truth of this world as well.”

“I can. I couldn’t at first, but I do now.” Geralt promised Vesemir.

“Have you told Jaskier?”

“I have not.” Geralt replied “At first because I was afraid he would think me insane and I needed him to follow me so that I could cure him. Then when I realised there was no cure I-. At first I wanted to confess so that he could hate me, blame me. Then I wanted to confess so that he could forgive me.”

“And now?”

“I realised that those were selfish reasons. About what I wanted, what I needed. He would forgive me because he is a kind man, but to confess, to tell him everything he lost, would not be a kindness to him.”

Vesemir gave a nod of acknowledgement and put his hand on Geralt’s shoulder. They stood there a while in companionable silence, Geralt appreciating the fatherly concern from Vesemir, at knowing he had someone who knew what he had been though.

\-----

In Kaer Morhen, it proved more difficult than Geralt had expected to spend time alone with Jaskier. Because where Jaskier was, Lambert was. No one thought it strange, so Geralt assumed this was common behaviour for them, but that out of all the witchers, _Lambert_ was the one Jaskier had grown closest to was not something he could have predicted.

Not that Geralt disliked Lambert, but Jaskier seemed to act as if the sun shone out of his arse, which was a bit much, in Geralt’s opinion. Unless Geralt intervened to place himself at Jaskier’s side, he was always sitting by Lambert at dinner, doing chores at his side. Their closeness wasn’t romantic, as far as Geralt could tell, but frustration still ate at him. He felt greedy for Jaskier’s time, his attention. He wasn’t used to sharing it.

He liked to imagine he was being subtle, but Eskel, though he didn’t say a word, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely whenever he caught Geralt glaring at Lambert, or attempting to steal Jaskier’s attention away.

After two weeks of it, Geralt was at his wits end, and he cornered Eskel before breakfast.

“Hmm.” Geralt started, and though he had made up his mind to ask for this favour, he knew that the moment this became a spoken thing, Eskel would not, not, be letting up. Ever.

Eskel just raised an amused eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“I need some time with Jaskier. Could you just?” Geralt mumbled, not quite able to look Eskel in the eyes.

Eskel was smirking now, amusement pouring from him in waves. Bastard, Geralt thought.

“Please.” Geralt forced out.

“I’ll distract Jaskier’s chaperone, so that you can go and seduce him behind the bushes.” Eskel laughed, but at Geralt’s glaring he relented “Alright, alright. I’ll switch the tasks around, and the two of you can go hunting together. Bring back enough sheep for dowry and our father might even give you his hand in marriage.” Eskel cackled as they made their way to breakfast.

“Fuck you.” Geralt thanked him.

\-----

Jaskier and Geralt set off after breakfast, dressing warmly for the day ahead. Jaskier put on a fur hat, and he looked so soft and warm that Geralt had to physically stop himself from wrapping his arms round him right then and there.

Geralt could feel his spirits lifting instantly as they walked into the forest together. He hadn’t known before that you could miss someone who was right there, but now that he was the centre of Jaskier’s attention again, the world felt right once more.

The early morning was still and silent, sounds muffled by the snow, and the landscape white. Fortunately for them it hadn’t snowed that night, and they were able to find some deer tracks after some scouting. When Geralt spotted the deer he signaled to Jaskier. Without making a sound, Jaskier reached for his bow, and faster than a human would have been able to perceive, he had let loose two arrows, both hitting their targets.

Jaskier threw him a grin that was all teeth, before he took off running towards his prey. Not that they needed to hurry, Jaskier’s arrows had hit true, and the deer had died quick and clean. Geralt carried them both, allowing Jaskier to keep hunting.

Geralt had always been attracted to competence, and though it had taken new forms in Jaskier, it was still just as attractive to watch him poke out the tip of his tongue in concentration as he darted through the forest, sending Geralt feral smiles whenever he came back with more to carry.

By midday they collected more than enough deer and rabbit, and Geralt was getting the impression that Jaskier might be trying to impress him.

When they returned Coën and Vesemir were waiting for them by the armoury, and they left them to divide the food between them, Vesemir to salt and dry for provisions and Coën to cook for dinner.

The tension that had been building for weeks felt ready to snap, at least for Geralt, and once they were alone he made his boldest move yet. The cold winter air and layers had been keeping Jaskier’s scent from him, but now he pulled down Jaskier’s scarf and moved in to scent him. Geralt let out an involuntary groan of desire, pressing his face against Jaskier’s neck, getting high on the sweet smell of happiness, adrenaline from the hunt, and the spicy scent of lust.

At first Jaskier stood still, allowing Geralt to scent him, but now he turned and looked Geralt in the eyes, assessing him, until a mischievous smile appeared on his face as he leaned in and whispered “First to my door wins!” with a laugh before taking off running.

Caught as Geralt had been in the moment, the scent, the smile Jaskier gave him, it took him a second or two before his mind caught up to what had happened and he raced after him.

Jaskier, being younger and slighter was the fastest out of the two of them, and he already had an advantage, but Geralt knew what he wanted for his prize, and he was willing to play dirty to get it.

“Lambert, my arrows if you tackle Jaskier!” Geralt shouted at Lambert who he spotted leaning by the doorway, more than willing to sacrifice the work he had put into painstakingly crafting his new arrows.

“Whaaat?” Jaskier laughed, throwing Geralt an outraged look. That was his mistake though.

“You are on!” Lambert shouted, flying into action at once and jumping on Jaskier’s back as he tried to swerve by.

“Fuck you!” Jaskier laughed breathlessly as he tried to fight his way out from under Lambert’s weight “I thought you were my friend?”

“Not friend enough to give up free arrows, that nerd does thorough work.” Lambert drawled, though he didn’t put up much of a fight when Jaskier tore himself free, flashing his middle finger in Lambert’s direction as he raced after Geralt.

Geralt had taken advantage of Lambert’s distraction, though Jaskier was even faster than he had thought, and he was almost at his neck when Geralt slammed his palm against Jaskier’s closed door, spinning to face Jaskier with a triumphant smirk.

Jaskier’s eyes were shining with mirth as he deliberately kept his speed up, tackling Geralt against the door and then the floor when they fell inside his bedroom and landed in a heap on it.

“You act all serious and dignified but it’s all a front! You big cheat!” Jaskier exclaimed, raising himself up so that he could hit Geralt’s shoulder.

Jaskier’s eyes were shining with mirth and chest shaking with laughter, as he looked down on Geralt. It seemed he hadn't quite realised yet what kind of position he was in, but Geralt had. He raised his hands, one finding Jaskier’s hip and the other rising to move strands of hair away from his face, keeping the touches light to avoid caging Jaskier in.

Jaskier’s heartbeat, which had been slowing down, started speeding up again and he stilled atop Geralt, curious eyes tracing his every movement as he seemed to hold his breath.

Geralt raised his upper body until his lips hovered just a few centimetres from Jaskier’s and he breathed “I’d like to claim my prize,” against Jaskier’s lips.

Witchers don’t blush easily, due to the control they were taught to have over their bodies, but Jaskier was starting to look delightfully flustered above him as he focused on Geralt’s lips. Geralt wanted to see if he could bring a blush to his cheeks.

“Jaskier.” Geralt murmured when he didn’t get a reply, breathing out warm air against Jaskier’s lips, his jaw, his neck. “May I?”

Jaskier swallowed, eyes wide and pupils dilated, making eye contact with Geralt and giving him a nod. Geralt began nibbling small kisses against Jaskier’s jaw, dragging his lips against Jaskier’s stubble and breathing out against the sensitive skin there, slowly setting course towards Jaskier’s lips. Geralt dragged his lips against Jaskier’s, still not kissing, his tongue coming out to give a teasing lick against Jaskier’s upper lip and drawing out a surprised groan from the other witcher.

Jaskier fisted both hands against Geralt's shirt and pulled him into a kiss to put a stop to his teasing, and Geralt let himself be pulled, enjoying the feel of Jaskier’s lips against his.

It felt like finally being home again, to have Jaskier in his arms. With his hands grabbing at a strong back and his eyes meeting a matching pair of yellow eyes, Geralt was fully aware of the fact that Jaskier was a witcher. And that it didn’t matter. He wanted him just as much, loved him just as deeply.

Geralt was happy to let Jaskier take the lead and take what he desired, tugging at his shirt and hoping Jaskier got the hint, and he did, removing his own and then Geralt’s. Geralt took the opportunity to raise himself into a sitting position with Jaskier in his lap, both of them letting out groans when skin met skin, and Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s face with both hands and pulled him back into a passionate kiss. Geralt let his hands roam against Jaskiers back, applying pressure with his nails and pulling down, surprising Jaskier into a loud moan.

Geralt definitely had an unfair advantage, having spent half a decade learning all the secrets to Jaskier’s body, and he was delighted to see that it still responded the same way. As a matter of fact, it reacted much stronger, Geralt discovered as he ran a nail over Jaskier’s nipple and he got the most delightful moan out of him, Jaskier’s whole body shuddering and grinding forcefully against Geralt, desperate to get pressure on his hardness.

Geralt pulled back from the kiss so he could observe Jaskier’s face as he pinched his other nipple. Taking in how Jaskier’s breathing grew erratic and he looked almost surprised by the pleasure coursing through him. Jaskier isn’t used to being worshiped, to being explored, Geralt was reminded, people don’t take their time with witchers. He pushed the thought aside, now wasn’t the time to be mauldin, now was the time to change that.

While Geralt was distracted Jaskier started pulling apart the laces of Geralt’s trousers, spitting into his palm and grabbing onto Geralt’s erection with a firm hand, causing Geralt’s hips to stutter and eyes fall closed for a moment. He felt torn on whether to halt Jaskier’s actions and try to slow things down, or to let Jaskier do what pleased him.

“This the prize you wanted?” Jaskier whispered against his lips before claiming another kiss.

Jaskier was a vision as he gazed down on Geralt from his position on his lap, a confident smirk on his face.

“The prize comes when I get to have you.” Geralt replied against Jaskier’s lips, and noticing some hesitation in Jaskier’s eyes, he added “In whatever way you would like. Let's take this to your bed.”

Geralt made his way to a standing position, placing his hands under Jaskier’s thighs and lifting him up in his arms as he rose. Which the other witcher clearly objected to, as he took Geralt down with a swift and hard kick to the back of his knee. They landed back on the floor, Jaskier kneeling above Geralt with a snarl.

Jaskier looked feral, sharp teeth on display, posture on the defensive as he crouched above Geralt. By all rights, the sight of it should not have been as attractive as it was, but hit Geralt like a punch in the gut, how much he wanted this man.

Geralt let out a soft laugh which riled Jaskier up even more, he could tell, but before Jaskier could retaliate Geralt moved up to kiss him again, wrapping his legs around Jaskier’s hips.

“How about you have me, then, hmm?” He murmured against Jaskier’s lips as he pulled away from the kiss, taking in how Jaskier’s pupils dilated as the words sunk in.

“You’d let me take you?” Jaskier asked, surprised, his voice already a wreck.

“ _Let_ you?” Geralt scoffed in disbelief “I’d _beg_ you.”

Geralt licked his way into Jaskier’s mouth, then traveled lower, giving his jaw small nips with his teeth, before moving down to Jaskier’s neck, scraping his teeth against the skin there. He wanted to bite down, so he did. The moan that he pulled out of Jaskier was loud and surprised, and it seems it woke him out of the stupor Geralt’s proposition had put him in.

“Bed?” Geralt drawled in an amused voice.

“Fuck.” Jaskier swore, placing his head against Geralt’s shoulder for a second, overwhelmed perhaps, but when he lifted his head back up there was nothing except excitement and eagerness in his gaze.

Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s hand, and pulled him up with him as he got to his feet, shoving Geralt onto the bed with a laugh “Fuck.”

“Yes, that was rather the idea.” Geralt smirked up at him from his sprawled position on the bed. He lifted his hips and removed his trousers and boots before lying back down, putting his arms behind his head and raising a challenging eyebrow at Jaskier.

Jaskier was clearly up for the challenge as he divested himself of trousers and boots in seconds before throwing himself at the bed. The kiss Geralt received was all joy and passion and urgency.

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s hips and flipped him over, but this time Jaskier didn’t object and Geralt licked his way down Jaskier’s torso, using his fingernails to scrape down Jaskier’s sides, receiving shivers and trembles as a reward.

Geralt made eye contact with Jasker when he reached his cock, satisfied at the desire he could both scent and see, he held eye contact as he took the whole length into his throat, setting a teasing pace he knew would drive Jaskier wild.

Jaskier's eyes drew closed and his arms reached behind him, as if looking for something to grab onto, and a thigh coming to rest on Geralt’s shoulder, as if to hold him in place. He reached a hand up to pinch at Jaskier’s nipple and heard Jaskier's head hit the headboard when his body arched off the bed. Geralt couldn’t help letting out a soft growl of satisfaction at the sights and sounds of Jaskier’s pleasure, at knowing he had made the other man feel good.

“Geralt. Geralt. Geralt.” Jaskier was moaning, one arm grabbing onto Geralt’s forearm, and Geralt moved his hand and interlaced their fingers to anchor them both. Jaskier opened his eyes at the intimate contact, surprised, but he didn’t pull away, instead giving Geralt’s hand an answering squeeze, eyes softening, moaning “I’m close.”

Humming in satisfaction, Geralt crawled back up and straddled Jaskier’s thighs. He couldn’t bring himself to release his grip on Jaskier, so he placed their joint hands by Jaskier’s head and moved in for a slow kiss.

Pulling back for a moment, Geralt took in the desire that radiated from Jaskier, and kissed down his neck so he could breathe in the scent of lust and joy and Jaskier. Being able to make Jaskier happy always gave him this rush, this burning satisfaction, and he gave a loud groan as he drew in another deep breath.

With his free hand he reached towards the bedside table and located a bottle of oil. He couldn't bring himself to let go of Jaskier’s hand, so he gave Jaskier the bottle, and together they managed to remove the cork and pour the oil onto Geralt’s fingers.

Jaskier’s hungry eyes followed his hand as Geralt started teasing his own entrance with a finger, relaxing himself, at first rubbing his finger back and forth, before slowly starting to open himself up. Jaskier looked captivated, eyes traveling between Geralt’s hand and back to his face, looking at Geralt as if he was a wonder, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the look in those eyes that made groans escape Geralt’s lips, and they only broke eye contact when Jaskier needed to pour more oil onto Geralt fingers.

Jaskier kept twitching like he wanted to touch Geralt, but with Geralt holding onto one hand and the other balancing the oil, he only had his mouth available, which he soon put to good use, reaching up to lick and suck at any skin he could reach.

Geralt had planned to take this slow, but being the focus of that hungry admiring gaze, and scenting the lust he had inspired in Jaskier, was starting to get to him. He had started out slowly moving his fingers in and out, but without even realising it his hips had started to urgently grind onto his hand, and when Jaskier’s lips moved to his nippple and started sukling, Geralt deemed himself sufficiently prepared. He signaled for more oil, this time applying it onto Jaskier’s cock, adjusting his position and sinking slowly down the length of his hardness, enjoying the stretch.

They both groaned when Geralt sank down all the way. Jaskier let go of the oil and grabbed a fistful of Geralt’s hair, using it to pull him down for a kiss. With Jaskier’s cock inside him, Jaskier’s hand in his, being held in place and kissed, Geralt felt anchored for the first time since his world had been turned upside down. He had been so focused on wanting to show Jaskier how much he cared, that he hadn't realised how much he needed this. He let out a loud grunt when Jaskier tugged harder.

“Sorry.” Jaskier whispered against his lips, loosening his grip on Geralt’s hair.

“No. Tighter, hold on to me.” Geralt pleaded, and when Jaskier’s grip tightened he let out a loud groan and quickened his pace, riding Jaskier urgently.

Geralt was too riled up now to make this last. Being grounded in Jaskier, held by him and surrounded by their combined scent was too much, too good, and his pace was becoming frantic.

“I'm close, I’m close, Geralt, touch yourself.” Jaskier urged, and Geralt grabbed his own cock, feeling himself careening towards his release.

“Are you close Geralt? Please, what do you need?” Jaskier asked, holding on by a thread “I want you to come with me.”

“Bite my neck.” Geralt ordered with a growl and Jaskier lunged forward immediately. The moment Jaskier’s teeth closed down on his throat Geralt came with a loud grunt. Jaskier, teeth still in Geralt’s neck came as well, letting out a satisfied moan.

They stayed in that position while their breathing returned to normal. Jaskier loosened his jaw, but instead of pulling away, he gave the bite a few long licks, scenting and nuzzling Geralt’s neck as he hummed softly, releasing Geralt’s hair to gently stroke his back. Geralt found himself blinking away wetness from his eyes, drawing in deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. Jaskier pulled back, looking unsure and Geralt couldn’t bring himself to speak just yet, so he grabbed Jaskier by the neck and kissed him instead, wet and desperate.

When he felt calmer, he pulled himself from Jaskier and laid down next to him. They were still holding hands, he realised, when he tried to reach for the covers.

“Let’s rest Jaskier,” he murmured, hesitating, then gave Jaskier’s cheek a kiss.

“Alright Geralt.” Jaskier whispered back, tentatively pulling Geralt against his chest, and closing his eyes.

It was only mid afternoon, but neither of them left Jaskier’s room that day.

\-----

Had Geralt been amongst humans, who would see nothing but his gruff face, he probably would have gotten away without embarrassing himself. Surrounded as he is by the people who know him best, and witchers to boot… he knows he must be an open book.

Two witchers warming each other up at night is not unheard off, but custom demands that they all pretend that what happens on lonely nights is irrelevant in the light of day. But that’s when the only thing exchanged is a bit of relief. And though it goes against his more private nature, Geralt won't have Jaskier thinking he is nothing but a warm hand and something to be hidden. So Geralt allows himself to be open with his affections, lets his gaze be fond in front of the others, and his own scent, which he couldn’t hide even if he tried, must be revealing more than words could.

But though Eskel teased him slightly the day Jaskier invited Geralt to his bed, to Geralt’s surprise no one has yet to actually comment on what has been developing between them. Geralt understands that it must be strange for them, having him be so open with his affections, seeing two of their brothers change their relationship so. But Geralt finds himself wishing they would tease them, because it would mean his relationship with Jaskier was acknowledged. Geralt has always prefered actions to words, but this is new territory for him. He wants to be more demonstrative, he wishes to kiss Jaskier at the breakfast table, have him in his arms as they all sit by the hearth at night, but he has yet to be brave enough to act on his impulses.

So life in Kaer Morhen mostly continues on as usual, and though it isn’t the easiest place to be romantic, Geralt tries. He crafts Jaskier new handles for his daggers in his favorite colour, performs any task he can think of to demonstrate his affection, and just tries to steal as much of his time as he can, spending each night in Jaskier’s bed. He wishes words came easier to him, but whenever he opens his mouth they are lost to him, he cannot imagine what words would be sufficient enough to describe what he feels for Jaskier, so he tries his best to prove his devotion through actions.

And Jaskier, who still looks surprised whenever Geralt seeks him out to give him a small gift or just be in his company, has started to respond in kind. He brings Geralt on a moonlit walk to his favorite spot in the keep, where they kiss and kiss under the stars, until the cold forces them back inside. He even sews Geralt a hat out of rabbits he killed and skinned himself, and though Geralt looks so ridiculous in it that Lambert almost pisses himself laughing, he keeps wearing it, because every time he does Jaskier beams with pride.

So Geralt feels that he should be forgiven for not noticing the tension building, distracted as he was by the affection he was drawing out of Jaskier.

But the tension around Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship comes to a head at the worst possible time, when they take off to kill a forktail that’s created a nest on the trail to Kaer Morhen.

Four witchers against a forktail should have been an easy kill, but a territorial mother and a slippery mountainside have them at a disadvantage, and as the fighting starts Geralt notes that they would have been better off with fewer witchers in the small cave. They keep getting in each other's way, and neither they nor the forktail can launch a proper attack.

Jaskier eventually sees an opening and launches for the forktail’s neck, even though it puts him in range of its sharp tail, and acting on old instincts and fear Geralt throws himself after Jaskier to get him out of the way. The resulting confusion distracts Eskel and Lambert, and the forktail uses the opening to swipe at Eskel. She manages to scratch him rather viciously with her tail but Lambert quickly launches at the forktail’s neck, and with Eskels help it's quickly decapitated.

As Geralt and Jaskier get to their feet there is a moment of ringing silence as they all stand around the body, and then Lambert walks up to Geralt and punches him hard in the face.

“What the fuck, Lambert?” Geralt growls at him in confusion.

“No, I’d like to know what the fuck, actually. Jaskier had the shot. Why the fuck did you push him out of the way?” Lambert gave Geralt a shove to the chest as he demanded an answer.

“He had the shot, instead you shoved him away and Eskel got mauled. Explain yourself.”

Geralt cast a look at Jaskier, and though his face didn’t give away any emotions, the tight grip he still had on his sword betrayed his anger. Eskel, bleeding, was giving Geralt a disappointed look.

“You think just because he is younger, just because he lets you fuck him, that you can treat him like this? Like he is weak?” Lambert shouted, giving Geralt another shove “He went through the trials just like the rest of us, walks the path just like the rest of us, he deserves your respect just like the rest of us. I’ve had enough of this. Come on, Jaskier.”

With a last shove at Geralt’s chest, Lambert stalks off, with Jaskier at his side.

“I don’t think he is weak.” Geralt spoke into the silence they left behind, utterly baffled.

Eskel gave him a disbelieving look “Then what on earth was that display, then?”

“It was instinct. I just didn’t want him to get hurt.” Geralt confessed.

“Jesus, Geralt. You idiot.” Eskel groaned. “He is a witcher.”

“So everyone thinks that I don’t respect Jaskier?” Geralt asked, concerned.

“I mean, yeah.” Eskel shrugged. “You don’t bother to make a secret of what you do at night, you’re always watching his practises, always making him things or bringing him things. It’s like you don’t trust in his capabilities.”

“Fuck.” Geralt groaned, putting his head in his hands. “That’s not. That wasn’t why.”

“Look, I know you. You’ve fucked powerful people before, and managed to fight alongside them. Whatever’s happening here, if you respect Jaskier, you need to get over it.” Eskel advised before exiting the cave.

Silence fell between them as they gathered the froktail’s eggs and the alchemical ingredients they could use. Eskel was right in that Jaskier could protect himself now, Geralt had had plenty of opportunities to see it in action. But that didn’t just erase years of instincts that had him throwing himself in front of a bard that always got into trouble he needed Geralt’s help to get him out of.

But Eskel is right in saying he needs to move past that if he aims to be a witcher’s partner. Geralt had taken on lovers that he had fought besides many times throughout his long life, and had always respected their strength and will. If he wished to be by Jaskier’s side, he would have to re-train his instincts. Learn to lean on him rather than just protect. It's not even such a foreign idea anymore, fighting side by side with Jaskier. But first, he had some misconceptions to correct.

\-----

Dinner that night was tense. Jaskier avoided eye contact with him, and Lambert pretty much had his back to Geralt, ignoring him in a way that made it very obvious to everyone that Geralt was being ignored. Coën looked deeply uncomfortable, Eskel was valiantly pretending nothing was wrong, and Vesemir had clearly picked up that something was wrong, but had no desire to learn what it was.

At the end of the meal Geralt put his drink down decisively and initiated what was probably the most uncomfortable conversation in the history of the Kaer Morhen dining hall.

“I fucked up today. I was wrong and Eskel got hurt for no reason,” Geralt said, while resolutely staring at the wall

“Really, I’m fine.” Eskel objected.

“The point wasn’t Eskel’s sensitive arse.” Lambert sneered.

“Thanks.” Eskel snorted, throwing a bread roll at Lambert’s head.

“It was an unconscious reaction, not a calculated one, to someone I care for being in harm's way,” Geralt continued, raising his voice to speak over Lambert’s grumblings “and, yes Lambert, I know Jaskier can handle a bloody forktail. You of all people should know me well enough to be aware that I don’t think less of people once I've slept with them.”

“AND” Geralt continued, forcing the next part out over Lambert’s objections “It hasn’t been me fucking Jaskier, just so that we are all clear, since this has became everyone's business. It’s been _Jaskier_ fucking _me_. I haven’t been acting this way because I think less of him. I’ve been acting this way because I-. Because I care deeply for him.”

Geralt didn’t think he had ever seen his brothers this silent outside of a hunt. As humiliating as this ordeal had been, looking at the other witchers was _almost_ reward enough for the pain. Coën looked delighted, Lambert looked absolutely flabbergasted, Eskel looked incredulous, and poor Vesemir had turned his gaze towards the ceiling in despair of their dramatics. Geralt finally gathered up the courage to look at Jaskier, who looked completely shocked, staring at Geralt in wonder.

“That was all.” Geralt grunted, getting up from the table, with Eskel’s applause and Coën’s laughter following him out.

\-----

Jaskier hadn’t come to his room that night, so Geralt was hoping to see him at breakfast, until Eskel approached the table.

“Vesemir told us about a basilisk nest a day's walk from here, Lambert and Jaskier left an hour ago, will be gone at least two days.”

Geralt gave a grunt. Worry that Jaskier might be upset about his outburst yesterday began to gnaw at him. He hadn’t intended to confess his affection in front of their whole family, and he hoped he hadn’t scared Jaskier away.

“Lambert’s always been a bit protective of Jaskier, though he denies it. He was just trying to look out for him.” Eskel sighed, sitting down next to Geralt.

“From me?” Geralt asked, surprised.

“You know Jaskier pretty much imprinted on Lambert when he came here, followed him everywhere, thought the sun shined out of that bastard's arse. Lambert’s always been like his big brother. I didn’t pay much attention when Jaskier first came, it’s best not to before they pass the trial of the grassess, but my understanding was that the other kids weren't so accepting of Jaskier, and you know Lambert doesn’t make friends easily. So, it was a bit of them against the world.” Eskel explained.

“Are you saying I’m going to need _Lambert’s_ permission to pursue Jaskier?” Geralt asked and got a laugh out of Eskel.

“Gods no, but I’m trying explain that not only was Lambert maybe a bit worried about, ah, your intentions. Though I do think you managed to put that to rest yesterday.” here Eskel raised a sardonic eyebrow, “But you’ve also been hogging Jaskier’s time, and Lambert has spent months looking forward to seeing him. So I wouldn’t worry about this trip, Jaskier didn’t leave because he is angry at you, he left to spend time with Lambert.”

“Hmm.” Geralt considered. “Thank you, Eskel.”

“I must say, I believe this is the first time we’ve had relationship drama at Kaer Morhen. For the entertainment value alone, no need for thank you’s.”

Geralt rolled his eyes at Eskel’s back, but he was grateful to his brother as the knot of worry in his stomach finally loosened.

\-----

It was two nights later that Geralt woke up by Jaskier coming into his room. Jaskier removed his clothes and settled against Geralt’s back, curling his arm around his chest and was asleep in minutes. He must have gone to the baths first thing, his hair was still damp and smelling of soap.

Geralt laid awake for a while, breathing the other man in and just enjoying being in Jaskier’s arms.

When Geralt came awake in the morning he was still held against Jaskier’s chest, though this time it looked like all of Jaskier was awake, based on the hardness pressing against him.

Geralt turned around to face Jaskier, who greeted him with a soft smile as he stretched. Geralt moved up to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

“Let me make you feel good?” Geralt asked against Jaskier’s lips.

Jaskier sighed a “Yes” in reply.

Permission granted, Geralt started to slowly, slowly move down Jaskier’s body. Lips leaving Jaskier’s lips to drag his teeth against his jaw, nip small bites along his neck, luxuriating in the quiet sounds of pleasure he was drawing out.

He sucked in a nipple while dragging his nails down the sides of Jaskier’s body, rewarded now with louder moans.

Moving further down Jaskier’s body, Geralt allowed his teeth and nails to apply pressure he knew would drive Jaskier wild. Geralt took a moment to glance up to and enjoy the sight of Jaskier, his chest heaving and hands fluttering as if unsure what to grab on to, eyes becoming glazed.

“We should invite a painter.” Geralt nonsensically told Jasiker, giving voice to his thoughts.

“What?” came a laugh from above, “Are you planning thresomes down there? Not to burst your bubble Geralt, but I doubt anyone human would be brave enough to join two witchers in bed.”

“Not to touch. To paint you like this, so relaxed, so gorgeous.” Geralt murmured against Jaskier’s stomach.

“Gods,” Jaskier huffed, trying for a dismissive tone, but his face was rapidly turning red “who would want to look at that?”

“I wouldn't be able to take my eyes off it.” Geralt confessed, looking into Jaskiers eyes.

“Stop talking,” Jaskier whined in embarrassment, covering his face with his hands. But Geralt pulled his hands away, and there he was, smiling, eyes shining, face red. Fuck. Even more beautiful now, Geralt thought.

Jaskier clearly had had enough of talking, however, and he pushed at Geralt’s head to direct him downwards towards his hardness, hoping to silence him. Geralt gave a small laugh, but obeyed the request.

Taking the head of Jaskiers cock into his mouth, Geralt keeps the pace slow, teasing, taking only the head in and pulling out to lick long stripes up his shaft, keeping it just this side of frustrating. It always gave him a dark satisfaction when, ah there it was, the pitch in Jaskier’s moans shifted to frustrated pleasure.

He licked down Jaskier’s shaft while moving his hand down and cupping his scrotum, tugging and stroking gently while putting his other hand on Jaskier’s lower back, lifting and tilting him for better access.

Geralt took Jaskier’s hardness back into his mouth and then slowly, slowly, traced his finger along Jaskier’s perineum, drawing slow but firm circles with his finger.

Geralt flickered a gaze up to confirm that Jaskier was still relaxed, still onboard. It had taken them a long time to get here, to Jaskier allowing himself to receive just pleasure, to relax into Geralt’s arms. The trust was all the sweeter for how hard won it had been, and Geralt was determined not to do anything to lose it.

“G-Geralt” Jaskier threw his head back and moaned.

Geralt kept up the teasing swipes along Jaskier’s cock while slowly stroking his perineum, noting how Jaskier’s moans were getting louder, and his body started shifting restlessly, hands reaching to grip the sheets, one leg coming up and bending at the knee, his hips twitching with the rhythm of Geralt’s finger.

Geralt pulled the other leg onto his shoulder before starting to trace a downwards path with this tongue, sucking at his scrotum, then joining his finger along the perineum, before moving down to Jaskier’s hole.

Geralt took his time, leaving small kisses on the surrounding area, and breathing out softly over it, to signal his intentions. He then traced a light circle with his tongue, slowly applying more pressure, while the hand that had been tracing his perineum moved to slowly stroke Jaskier’s cock.

Gods, Geralt had missed this, and it took some restraint to keep his motions gentle and not just dive right in, tongue just circling around the hole, waiting to see if Jaskier relaxed into it.

At first Jaskier’s whole body tensed, and all of Geralt’s senses were on high alert to to see if he should stop, but when Geralt ran his tongue over Jaskier’s hole for the second time, Jaskier’s whole body shuddered and the leg Geralt had thrown over his shoulder pushed against his back as if to hold him in place.

“Oh, oh, what,” Jaskier gasped “what are you?” but his words turned into moans as Geralt continued, now tracing the letters of his own name gently, repeatedly. Jaskier’s moans were getting louder and Geralt took that as a sign to start entering the tip of his tongue.

“Ah ah ah” he heard from above, and he could feel how Jaskier was moving his head left to right, the pleasure overwhelming him. Geralt pulled back and shifted so he could see Jaskier's face, needing to check in.

Gods, he looked wrecked, face flushed and scrunched up in pleasure, with one hand pulling at his own hair.

“Is this alright,” Geralt asked, tracing a soothing hand up and down Jaskier’s flank, “can I continue?”

It took a moment for Jaskier to find the words, but after a few seconds he moaned “ _Please_ ”.

“My pleasure.” Geralt couldn’t help but smirk, chest rumbling in satisfaction at how much Jaskier was enjoying himself.

Permission granted, Geralt threw himself into the task, his tongue finally entering Jaskier properly. Jaskier’s moans and whimpers, the scent of his pleasure at Geralt’s hands, was so potent that Geralt found himself rutting against the mattress for some relief.

Jaskier was getting close, breaths now hitching gasps, and his body was shaking in Geralt’s arms. The heel of his foot was digging into Geralt’s back and holding him in place while Jaskier was practically riding Geralt’s tongue.

Jaskier taking his pleasure from Geralt so unselfconsciously, knowing he could bring Jaskier this much pleasure, had Geralt cumming with a shudder as he rutted against the mattress. Jaskier sounded close to overwhelmed now, so Geralt brought a finger in to join his tongue, slowly entering and crooking it to reach Jaskier's prostate while stroking Jaskier’s cock faster.

“Ge- Ge-, oooh” Jaskier moaned as he came, body undulating against Geralt’s tongue and fingers, cum hitting his chest as his whole body shuddered in aftershocks.

Geralt didn’t even try to suppress the satisfied rumble in his chest, as he gently moved Jaskier into a comfortable position, wiping them both down with his sheet before crawling up and gathering Jaskier against his chest.

“Shit, Geralt, didn’t mean to just leave you hanging, let me take care of you.” Jaskier said, hand moving down Geralt’s body.

“That took care of itself.” he replied, catching the wandering hand in his own and giving it a squeeze.

Jaskier’s eyes looked at him in amazement “Geralt. I can’t believe you are real.” he laughed, using his free hand to stroke Geralt’s hair.

They laid there, sticky, satisfied, content. And Geralt was about to fall asleep again when Jaskier’s hesitant voice brought him back to wakefulness, and he turned to look at the other man.

“I always wanted to have somewhere to put my love,” Jaskier whispered, eyes gazing at the ceiling, as if scared to meet Geralt’s eyes “at one point I thought, maybe it could be humanity, saving them, if it couldn't be a person. But. Well, you know.” eyes flickering quickly up before avoiding Geralt’s gaze again, voice shaking “For years I kept looking for something, anything to love, before realising I had to outgrow that need. So, I put it away in a box at the back of my mind, that foolish wish of a foolish boy. To think that someone would accept the love of a witcher. Then you came, Geralt.”

“You make me want to find that box again and open it. But I'm afraid. Would you want it? My love, I mean? As far as gifts go, it's not much, but. I’d like you to have it. I’d like to love you.”

Geralt turned fully so that he was on his side gazing at Jaskier, who finally met his eyes in the soft morning light.

“Please.” Geralt replied, “I will take anything you are willing to give me. I will take _everything_.”

Geralt promised, putting his hand over Jaskier’s heart. “Your love, it will be safe with me.”

Jaskier let out a disbelieving laugh, tears forming at the corner of his eyes, and Geralt had to kiss them away, and then he just kept kissing him, his eye lids, his nose, finally his lips.

“And you have my love, Jaskier, you’ve had it for a long time. If you’ll permit it, I’d stay by your side.”

“Stay.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

**Coda: Years on the Path**

_And now, even though you’re mad and these memories won’t stay_

_That's okay_

_'Cause then I get to meet you for the first time every single day_

_I’ll wait and hope_

_Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep_

_But a place for crows to rest their feet_

_I’ll wait and hope_

Jaskier is with the baron, collecting their pay, but they still had enough coin from their last contract for Geralt to restock their provisions at the morning market.

Errands completed, he still had some coin in his purse, he noted with satisfaction, as he passed a stall with sweetcakes.

_They have everything they need already. It would be a complete waste_ , the voice in his head told him, _witchers don’t need_ -. But he cut the voice off there. Thought of how delighted Jaskier would look when he presents him with the cake when they’ve made camp. How he would roll his eyes and tell Geralt it’s completely unnecessary. But how he wouldn’t be able to stop that delighted smile from appearing. Geralt thinks of how sweet their kisses will taste.

He turns to the vendor.

\-----

Geralt wakes from a nightmare with Jaskier’s arms around him. He doesn’t remember the dream when he awakes, but the disorientation means it takes him a moment to realise what's so special about the moment.

Jaskier is singing.

It’s a lullaby, he thinks, in the language of Jaskier’s childhood. He can’t understand the words, but that’s not important.

Jaskier is singing.

He must know Geralt is awake now, but he continues singing and rocking them gently. Geralt is too overwhelmed to speak, so he just turns his face into Jaskiers lap and weeps. He had given up hope of hearing this again.

Jaskier sings him back to sleep.

\-----

They’ve entered a cockatrice lair, and there are three adolescents and their mother in the cave. It’s unnatural behaviour for cockatrices, they should set off to their own territory by now, but the mother hatched her young in a small forest surrounded by cities, and there isn’t space for them here.

The fight is intense, the mother rips Jaskier’s silver sword out of his hands as he fights one of her young, and he has to resort to his steel sword, which hasn’t been oiled, because god forbid people give an accurate information about the threat, too concerned with keeping the price low to tell them there was a whole family in the cave.

“Jaskier, catch!” Geralt shouts, throwing him his silver sword so Jaskier can make quicker work of the cornered cockatrice. Jaskier executes a perfectly timed turn, catching Geralt’s sword and stabbing it through the monster's head.

Not pausing for a moment, he pulls the sword out and with a shout of “On your left” he throws the sword back to Geralt, who approaches the final adolescent now, while Jaskier runs ahead to scout.

“Done.” Geralt tells him, giving his sword a quick wipe as he catches up to Jaskier, who has found out the mother's location.

“Ready? Duck.” Jaskier orders, throwing a grapeshot bomb at the mother to force her out of her hiding place.

They both cover their faces to avoid the dust, and Jaskier aims his crossbow, getting in four hits, but though the aim is impressive, the cockatrice’s scales are simply too thick for the arrows to penetrate deep enough.

“Should I go for the eyes?” Jaskier asks.

“It will just panic, we will have to make due with swords.” Geralt replies.

“Then let’s get dirty.” Jaskier winks at him, before leaping into action.

Geralt can't help letting out a laugh as he throws himself after Jaskier.

\-----

Out of all the possible injuries to take him down, Geralt had pulled his groin muscle attempting to execute a leaping jump off of Roach and onto a pack of ghouls. It hurt like hell and Jaskier had been left to handle the pack mostly on his own as Geralt had to limp around waiting for the ghouls to come to him, too slow to give chase.

And then Geralt had to endure being helped onto Roach and being laughed at all the way back to the inn.

“Aaaw.” Jaskier gave a mocking pout in Geralt’s direction as they entered the inn “Is little Geralt’s bottom still sore.”

“It wasn’t my-” He grunted in reply, frowning angrily as Jaskier threw his head back in laughter again.

“Do you need me to rub some salve onto your lovely bottom, then?” Jaskier asked in a fondly mocking tone of voice. Geralt turned his head to see if the offer was genuine, and Jaskier could clearly read the interest in his gaze.

“Come on then, off with the clothes” Jaskier ordered with another laugh, gesturing at their bed, and Geralt didn’t need to be asked twice.

\-----

Geralt is running up the stairs, heart in his throat. Please. Please Please.

He hadn’t known when they split up, not until the bruxa had mocked him with it’s dying breath. He had left Jaskier alone with a higher vampire.

He almost slips running into the room. There is blood _everywhere_.

There is a body on the ground and Jaskier is chopping its neck with his sword as if he is a lumberjack facing a stubborn log, until he gives up and just wretches the vampire's head off its body. Blood sprays all over Jaskier, but as he turns to Geralt there is a manic grin on his face.

“A higher vampire! Look!” Jaskier shouts with glee as he waves the head around, getting blood on both of them. As if Geralt could have possibly missed the decapitated head he was waving in his face “Look, Geralt!” he exclaims while pointing at the head.

“I can’t believe I love you.” Geralt tells him, filled with fondness as Jaskier throws his hands out wide.

“But you do,” Jaskier crows “you love this higher vampire killer! I can’t wait to tell Lambert I got one first!”

“I love a fool, is what I do.” Geralt replies, though he can’t help the smile that breaks out. And he allows Jaskier to pull him into a celebratory kiss, blood and all.

\-----

“You want me to play a lute? Geralt I have no idea how. Are you planning on teaching me?” Jaskier asked with a bemused laugh.

“I don’t know how to play either.” Geralt murmured in reply.

“If you don’t know how to play the lute, and I don’t, then why are we sitting here holding a lute?”

“I.” _am I really doing this?_ Geralt thought to himself. _Yes, yes you are, don’t be a coward and stick to the plan,_ he tells himself firmly. “I’d like to learn.”

“You want to learn how to play the lute? I mean, alright, but how?”

“Triss suggested expanding Ciri’s teachings, and she has a point. And so I thought, maybe if we get her a tutor, you and I could learn something too.”

“Oh.” Jaskier sounded shocked, but there was something soft in his eyes.

“I know you like music. I thought maybe we could learn to create some, together.” Geralt suggested.

“I used to dream about it as a kid but… oh, how did you know?”

“I think I know you by now.”

Jaskier shook his head in wonder, eyes shining like he was just a moment away from tearing up. He placed his head against Geralt’s neck to hide from view as the emotions overwhelmed him.

“It’s just another ploy for you to get me to sing you my bestiary limericks, isn’t it? Admit it!” He accused Geralt as a distraction.

“Hmm. You caught me, sweetheart.” Geralt replied with a fond smile as he ran a hand soothingly up and down Jaskier’s back, and gave the top of his head a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned are Like Real People Do by Hozier and Marbles by The Amazing Devil
> 
> Thank you again [dibs on the bard](https://dibsonsmth.tumblr.com/) for being my beta!
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!  
> Comments and Kudos are loved <3
> 
> I'm on tumbler @ thedaywasnew

**Author's Note:**

> About three months ago I wrote an imagine for a witcher Jaskier fic, hoping someone else would write it for me because I didn’t think I was a fic writer. Since then I've decided that I am, so here I am giving it a go once more. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it! 
> 
> Thank you again [TheCoffeeBadger!](https://iamthecoffeebadger.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Yennefer speaking of acceptance was inspired by this Guillermo del Toro [interview](https://www.vulture.com/2017/11/guillermo-del-toro-on-the-shape-of-waters-politics.html)


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